#but that’s just made this week feel so much longer

[missarchive]

american jesus² ☆

spencer reid

part one

summary; Spencer continues to spoil you with thoughtful gifts and lavish attention, each gesture reinforcing the growing bond between you both. Despite the lingering questions and unspoken emotions, Spencer becomes more protective and possessive, revealing his vulnerability and need to care of you. As you begin to navigate the complexities of your unconventional arrangement, the lines between business and genuine affection begin to blur, leaving you both caught between desire and uncertainty.

cw; +18 minors dni, sugar baby/daddy dynamics, inexperienced reader, pleasure dom spencer, fingering, dirty talk, munch!spencer, unprotected p in v, multiple orgasms, reader calls spencer "sir"

an; thank you for so so much love on the first part! as always, feedback is greatly appreciated. P.s. this is written with jesus reid in mind <3 xoxo

You exchanged messages almost daily after that. His words were always careful, deliberate, as if he’d spent hours considering each one. He asked about your life—not in a prying way, but with genuine curiosity. He wanted to know your interests, your struggles, the little details that most people overlooked.

In return, he offered glimpses of himself. He told you about his love of books, how his job kept him busy and isolated, and how he’d joined the site not for anything shallow, but because he craved a connection that he hadn’t found anywhere else.

As the days turned into weeks, your messages grew longer, more personal. You learned that he didn’t like crowded places, that he drank too much tea, and that he had a habit of quoting obscure facts when he was nervous.

But despite the growing intimacy of your conversations, there was always a wall between you—a hesitance to reveal too much. Neither of you had shared your real name or details about your work. It wasn’t unusual for this kind of arrangement, but it made everything feel more fragile, like the wrong word could shatter whatever it was you were building.

And then, one night, he sent a message that changed everything.

@ thefourthdoctor; I’ve been thinking... I’d like to meet you in person. If you’re comfortable, of course.

Your heart raced as you read the words. You had been expecting this—waiting for it, even—but now that it was here, you weren’t sure what to say.

@ laceandliterature; Are you sure? 

@ thefourthdoctor; I am. But only if you feel ready. I don’t want you to feel pressured.

You hesitated, your fingers hovering over the keyboard. You wanted to meet him—you couldn’t deny that. But there was a part of you that was afraid. What if he wasn’t what you expected? What if you weren’t what he expected?

@ laceandliterature; Let’s take a little more time. I’m not saying no. Just... not yet.

@ thefourthdoctor; Of course.

@ thefourthdoctor; I’ll wait as long as you need. No pressure.

The conversation continued, and for the next week, things went back to normal—if what you had could even be called that. But the thought of meeting lingered at the back of your mind, growing stronger with every message he sent, every piece of himself he shared.

One night, as you lay in bed, scrolling through his messages, you made up your mind.

@ laceandliterature; Okay, Let’s meet.

@ thefourthdoctor; Are you sure, angel?

@ thefourthdoctor; Yes. I want to meet you, Spencer.

After a few more exchanges, you settled on a quiet café in the city—neutral territory. He insisted on keeping things casual, saying he didn’t want to overwhelm you. If anything, he was a gentleman.

The night before the meeting, you barely slept. You went over everything in your mind a hundred times, questioning your decision, wondering if you were making a mistake. But when the time came, you found yourself standing outside the café, heart pounding as you pushed the door open.

The first time you met Spencer in person, it wasn’t anything like you expected. You had imagined someone cocky, a man accustomed to throwing his money around to get what he wanted. But Spencer wasn’t that. Not even close.

He had chosen a quiet café for your meeting, one tucked away from the bustling city streets, its low lighting and intimate atmosphere offering a sense of privacy. When you arrived, you saw him sitting at a corner table, his long fingers wrapped around a cup of tea, his gaze fixed on a well-worn book.

You almost didn’t approach him. He looked so out of place, like someone who had wandered in by accident, unaware of the implications of what this kind of meeting entailed. But then he glanced up, and his eyes met yours.

You’d recognise those eyes anywhere. They were just as captivating as they had been in his profile picture—intelligent, kind, and curious, but with an edge of something deeper, something darker.

“Hi,” you said, hesitating at the edge of the table.

Spencer stood quickly, his movements awkward but endearing. “Hi. Please, uh, sit. I—I’m Spencer.”

His voice was softer than you expected, but there was a certainty to it that made you feel at ease. As you slid into the chair across from him, you couldn’t help but study him. He was... handsome. 

His hair, a dark cascade of curls that fell just past his shoulders, framed his face like the softest of shadows. Each strand seemed to have a life of its own, unruly and free, yet perfectly suited to him, like a secret kept between the universe and his skin. The golden highlights that kissed the tips caught the light in a way that made him seem almost ethereal, as if sunlight was always seeking to touch him, to linger just a little longer.

His eyes—those eyes—the colour of moss after rain, deep and mysterious, filled with an intelligence that left you feeling both seen and understood, and yet so very far away. There was a quiet intensity in the way they studied everything around him, always searching, always analysing, as though the world was a puzzle he had yet to fully solve. But when they turned toward you, it felt like he was letting the world slip away, if only for a moment, letting you glimpse the tenderness he rarely allowed anyone to see.

His face, pale and angular, was sharp with youth and burdened wisdom all at once. His lips, though soft and pale, would part when he spoke, revealing a mix of shyness and urgency, like every word he shared carried weight. The stubble that traced the sharp edge of his jawline only emphasised the boyishness that lingered beneath the layers of genius and mystery. But it was his smile—rare and fleeting—that truly made your chest ache, a smile that cracked through the fortress around him, like the sun breaking through clouds.

There was something effortlessly magnetic about him, something that made you want to inch closer to understand the stories written in the lines of his face. And yet, just as quickly as he drew you in, there was always an invisible barrier, a space between you and the man that you were still trying to figure out. Spencer Reid was an enigma wrapped in vulnerability, each glance, each gesture, leaving you wanting more of the puzzle to unfold.

The first few minutes were stilted, filled with polite small talk about the weather and the café’s menu. But as the conversation flowed, the tension between you began to ease. Spencer wasn’t like anyone you’d ever met. He spoke with a quiet intensity, his words precise and thoughtful, and he listened just as intently, as if everything you said held a weight he couldn’t ignore.

And then, inevitably, the topic shifted to why you were both there.

“So,” he began, his fingers fidgeting with the edge of his napkin. “I’m not, um... particularly experienced with this kind of arrangement.”

You raised an eyebrow, surprised by his candour. “You mean being a sugar daddy?”

He winced slightly at the term but nodded. “Yes. That. I—I don’t want you to think that I see this as transactional, at least not in the way it’s usually framed. I’m looking for... connection, I suppose. Someone to talk to. To spend time with. And if financial support is part of that, then I’m happy to provide it.”

His words caught you off guard. Most men on the site were upfront about their intentions—dinners in exchange for companionship, gifts in exchange for discretion. But Spencer’s tone was different. He wasn’t trying to seduce you or impress you with his wealth. He was just... honest.

You leaned back in your chair, studying him. “And what do you expect from me?”

He hesitated, his eyes flicking away for a moment before meeting yours again. “I don’t have expectations. I only have... hopes. That you’ll be honest with me. That we can build something that feels mutually beneficial. And if, at any point, you’re uncomfortable, you can tell me. No strings, no pressure.”

There was a sincerity in his voice that made your chest tighten. This wasn’t a game to him. It wasn’t about power or control. It was about something deeper, something more human.

“Okay,” you said, nodding slowly. “I think we can make that work.”

Over the next few weeks, your relationship settled into a rhythm. Spencer was generous, but not in a way that felt overbearing. And then there was the money.

He transferred it to your account without fanfare, always with a note attached. For groceries. For that art class you mentioned. For you.

At first, it felt strange, accepting so much from him. But Spencer never made it feel transactional. He never demanded anything in return, never made you feel like you owed him. It was simply his way of showing he cared.

The calls became a nightly ritual. He’d ask about your day, encouraging you to share every mundane detail as though it were the most important thing in the world. He never interrupted, never rushed you, and his thoughtful responses made you feel like the centre of his universe.

In return, you learned more about his life. He told you about the pressures of his job, the long hours, the cases that weighed on him. But he never dwelled on the darkness. Instead, he focused on the small joys: the satisfaction of solving a puzzle, the camaraderie of his team, the books he escaped into when the world felt too heavy.

And then there were the gifts.

It started with little things: a beautifully bound notebook because you’d mentioned wanting to journal, a box of your favourite chocolates, a scarf in your favourite colour. But soon, the gifts became more extravagant.

A delivery driver showed up at your door one afternoon with a box containing a designer handbag you’d admired in passing. Another day, you received an email confirming that Spencer had paid off your car loan, the subject line reading simply: You deserve this.

“Spencer,” you said when you called him that night, clutching the phone tightly. “You didn’t have to do that. I never asked for—”

“I know you didn’t,” he interrupted gently. “But I wanted to. Please let me do this for you.”

It was hard to argue with him when he sounded so sincere.

The next time you met in person, he handed you a small velvet box across the table. You opened it to find a delicate gold bracelet, simple but exquisite, the kind of thing that felt like it belonged in a museum.

“Spencer,” you whispered, your voice catching. “This is too much.”

His expression softened, his fingers brushing against yours as he helped you fasten the bracelet around your wrist. “Nothing I give you will ever feel like enough,” he said, his voice low and earnest. “But I’ll keep trying.”

He spoiled you in other ways too. He insisted on picking up the check whenever you went out, no matter how much you protested. When you mentioned that your laptop was acting up, a brand-new one arrived at your doorstep the next day.

But it wasn’t just about the money or the gifts. It was the way he made you feel cherished, valued, as though your happiness was the most important thing in the world to him.

One night, as you lay in bed after a long call, you found yourself smiling at the thought of him. It was more than just an arrangement now. Somewhere along the way, you’d started to care about him—not for what he could give you, but for who he was.

The low hum of your phone’s speaker filled the quiet of your bedroom as you lay sprawled across your bed, Spencer’s voice soothing and familiar on the other end of the line. Tonight’s call had started like all the others—a mix of light teasing and genuine curiosity—but somewhere along the way, you felt the tone shift.

“Can I ask you something?” you ventured, fiddling with the bracelet he’d given you, its delicate chain glinting in the soft light of your bedside lamp.

“Of course,” Spencer replied, his voice gentle.

“How do you afford all of this?” you asked, hesitant but unable to keep the question bottled up any longer. “The gifts, the...everything. I mean, you’re so generous, and I don’t want you to think I’m ungrateful, but I can’t help but wonder.”

There was a pause on the other end, long enough for doubt to creep into your mind. You opened your mouth to take it back, but then he spoke, his tone thoughtful.

“It’s a fair question,” he said softly. “I suppose I owe you an explanation.”

You heard him exhale, the sound heavy with something you couldn’t quite name.

“I wasn’t always this...comfortable,” he began. “For most of my life, I never cared much about money. I didn’t really need to. My job covered the basics, and I didn’t have anyone to spend it on—not until now.”

His words made your heart tighten.

“What kind of job?” you asked tentatively.

“I was with the FBI,” he said, and though his tone was steady, there was a weight behind the words. “I worked as a criminal profiler for over a decade. It wasn’t easy, but it was...fulfilling, in its own way. We dealt with some of the worst humanity has to offer, but knowing we were helping people made it worth it.”

You sat up a little straighter, the revelation catching you off guard. “That sounds...intense.”

“It was,” he admitted. “But I loved it. The work gave me purpose. Until I got injured in the field,” he said quietly. “A knee injury. Nothing life-threatening, but bad enough that I couldn’t keep up with the demands of the job. I had to retire early.”

You could hear the mix of resignation and lingering frustration in his voice, and it tugged at you.

“I’m sorry,” you said, meaning it.

“Don’t be,” he replied, a hint of a smile creeping back into his tone. “It gave me time to focus on other things—like figuring out what I wanted out of life. I realised I’d spent so much of my time chasing after criminals and trying to make the world a safer place, but I’d never really lived for myself.”

You bit your lip, unsure what to say.

“I had money saved up,” he continued, his tone matter-of-fact. “I never spent much on myself. Just the necessities and the occasional book. So, when I found myself with all this extra time and money... I didn’t know what to do with it. And then I found the site.”

The mention of the website—the place where your strange, beautiful relationship had begun—sent a rush of warmth and something like embarrassment through you.

“I wasn’t looking for anything romantic,” he said quickly, as though reading your mind. “I just wanted...connection. Someone to talk to. And then I found you.”

You smiled, your heart softening. “And now you’re spoiling me rotten.”

Spencer chuckled, the sound low and warm. “I don’t see it that way. I like taking care of you. It makes me happy.”

You felt your cheeks flush. “You don’t have to, though. You’ve already done so much.”

“I want to,” he said firmly, his tone leaving no room for argument. “I spent years putting my energy into a job that left me drained. Now, I finally get to do something that feels good. Something that matters to me. And you matter to me.”

The words hung in the air, heavy with meaning, and you felt your chest tighten with emotion.

“Spencer,” you said softly, your voice barely above a whisper.

“Yes?”

“Thank you,” you murmured, your heart full.

“For what?”

“For being you.”

The silence that followed was warm, comfortable, filled with the unspoken understanding that no matter how unconventional your relationship was, it worked. For both of you.

The next time you saw each other, things were different. You could feel the air between you crackling with an electric charge. The conversation flowed easily, but there was an undeniable tension lingering beneath the surface. Every touch seemed to hold more weight, every glance more meaningful.

After dinner, Spencer invited you back to his apartment. You could tell he was being cautious—he didn’t want to rush anything—but you could also feel that he was testing boundaries, subtly claiming his space. As you sat next to him on his worn out leather couch, his hand brushed against yours, and it felt like the world narrowed down to just the two of you. The quiet intimacy of the moment was powerful, and you both knew you couldn’t keep pretending that your relationship was just a simple arrangement anymore.

His voice broke the silence.

“I’ve been thinking a lot about us,” he said, his words low, careful. “About what we’re doing, and what it means. I can’t keep giving you everything and pretending it’s nothing. It’s not just about the money or the gifts anymore. I want to be more than that for you.”

You felt a surge of emotion, something between excitement and fear. This was what you had been afraid of—the moment when you’d realise that you wanted more, that this wasn’t just some transaction for you either. And you could see in Spencer’s eyes that he was struggling with the same feelings.

“I don’t want you to think that I only care about the money,” you said, your voice quiet but steady. 

Spencer’s gaze softened, and for a moment, there was something vulnerable in his eyes that you hadn’t seen before.

“I know,” he whispered, his hand slipping into yours, his thumb brushing over your knuckles. “But I can’t stop myself from wanting to give you everything. I’m not used to feeling like this. Like I’m needed. I’ve spent so much of my life in control, always keeping my distance... but with you, it’s different.”

You squeezed his hand, understanding what he meant. You didn’t need him to explain further. There was an unspoken connection between you two now—a bond that was undeniable, something more than the surface-level arrangement you’d initially started with.

“I want to give you everything too,” you said softly, leaning in closer. “But you have to promise me something—promise me that this isn’t just about the money. Promise me that you actually want me.”

Spencer’s eyes held yours with an intensity that sent shivers down your spine, his gaze so deep it felt as though he could see every hidden part of you. The air between you thickened, the unspoken tension finally reaching its breaking point. He took a slow step forward, the warmth of his body enveloping you, and for a heartbeat, everything else ceased to exist.

His hand lifted, cupping your cheek in a soft, yet possessive way, as if he was both cherishing and claiming you all at once. “I promise,” the gentle brush of his thumb over your skin sent a flutter through your chest, and before you could process it, his lips were on yours.

The kiss was slow at first, tentative, as if both of you were testing the waters, savouring the newness of it. But the moment you responded, the kiss deepened, urgency flooding in. Spencer’s lips moved against yours with a fervour that mirrored the racing pulse in your veins. His hands, once gentle, now framed your face with a desperate kind of need, pulling you closer, as if he couldn’t get enough of you.

Every touch, every press of his lips against yours, was electric. You could feel the raw intensity of everything he was holding back in that kiss—the longing, the desire, the tension of months spent on the edge, waiting for this moment. And when his tongue traced the line of your lower lip, a quiet gasp escaped you, and he took the opportunity to deepen the kiss further, drawing you in like a magnet.

Your hands, almost instinctively, found their way to his hair, fingers tangling in the strands that had once teased you from a distance, now so close you could feel the weight of them. His hair was soft, the strands slipping between your fingers as you tugged him closer, urging him to kiss you more fiercely.

As he kissed his way down your body, you could feel the anticipation building inside of you. You loved how he savoured you, like a piece of art he needed to take his time with. His fingers slid along your inner thighs, spreading you open for him. He groaned, his breath hot against your skin. “Fuck, baby,” he murmured against your clit. “Look at you. Already dripping wet for me. What am I gonna do with you? Perfect, perfect girl.”

Your breath caught in your throat as his tongue swirled around your clit, the sensation of his warm mouth sending waves of pleasure through you. You arched your back off the couch, your hands tangling in his hair.

“Please,” you begged, your eyes squeezed shut as you felt the pressure building. “Please, sir. Please make me cum.”

Spencer moaned, his tongue dipping inside of you before returning to your clit. Teasing it gently with his tongue, his fingers slipping inside of you, working you open. You were already close, your walls tightening around his fingers as he fucked them into you slowly. Picking up the pace, his mouth latched onto your clit as you fell apart, your body trembling with your orgasm. 

Spencer didn’t give you a second to catch your breath before he was kissing you again, his tongue pushing past your lips to taste you, tip of his cock nudging against your cunt. You weren’t even sure when he’d taken his clothes off, not that it mattered now. You whimpered as he slid inside of you, his cock stretching you open. He pulled back slightly, hips rolling against your own. “Keep your eyes open,” he commanded. “Need to see your face when you cum. Need to see what I do to you.”

You nodded, your fingers digging into his shoulders as he picked up the pace. He was relentless, slamming into you with deep, powerful thrusts. 

You weren’t used to coming more than once in a row, with your poor excuses of previous partners, but with Spencer, it felt natural. He pushed you higher than you knew was possible, taking you to the edge of sanity every time you were together. And when you came, it was like a floodgate opened up, and all of that pent-up desire came pouring out of you.

He was whispering things to you, things that made you blush and preen, words that made you feel beautiful, wanted. You’d never felt like this before. You felt like a completely different person with him, someone who was capable of more than you ever thought.

“That’s it,” he encouraged. “Give it to me, princess. Let me feel you. Fuck, you feel so good around me,” he kissed you deeply as he drove inside of you, the pressure inside of you growing. “Cum for me, angel. Cum all over my cock.”

You heard him through a haze, your body trembling and shaking as the second orgasm rolled through you. You felt his cock pulse inside of you as he came, his teeth sinking gently into your neck as he rode out his own release. Wrapping your arms around him, you pull him as close as possible as you hold onto him, his body pressing into yours.

Pressing soft kisses to your shoulder, he whispers into your skin. “Stay the night?” He asked. “I don’t want you to leave yet, just got you here.” His voice was soft, gentle, and you found yourself melting into his embrace. You didn’t want to go either. You wanted to stay like this, wrapped up in his arms, for as long as possible. And that terrified you more than anything else. “Please?”

He looked at you, his eyes dark and sincere. Your heart fluttered at the look he was giving you. It was one you’d never seen before, one that made your breath catch in your throat.

 It was a look that said he wanted more, and that scared you. But it also filled you with a warmth you couldn’t deny.

“Yeah,” you said finally. “Okay.” And as Spencer pulled you back into his arms, kissing you gently, you realised that you might just be in trouble. He was already pulling you in, tempting you to stay. You were already falling for him, and there wasn’t a damn thing you could do to stop it. “I’ll stay.” You agreed.

 “For tonight.” You added. You weren’t going to admit to more than that, not yet. “Just tonight.” Spencer nodded, his lips returning to yours.

You knew it was dangerous, you knew you were playing with fire, but you couldn’t bring yourself to care.

You wanted to be his, even if it was just for one night. You wanted to let him own you, let him love you. Even if it was just temporary, you wanted to feel that love for as long as you could. You knew it would hurt in the end, but you were too far gone to stop it now.

And when he whispered your name against your lips, you almost believed that it was real. That this wasn’t just temporary, but forever. Almost. You allowed yourself to be swept up in the moment, to believe the things he whispered to you. To believe that maybe this was it.

Maybe he was your forever, and you were his. Maybe this was something that could last longer than just one night.

Won't you take me to heaven tonight? You know you're my weakness American Jesus, save me You're the greatest love of my life

[areislol]

hsr!men with a reader who 'stresses' them out to see if they actually like reader that much or not >< HSUDHNS like testing them! kind of. during a post-confession stage where they both kind of know but haven't put any labels on it yet........

AHCK IM SORRY IF THIS IS ODDLY SPECIFIC LOL

pairings. jing yuan, dan heng, blade, welt, sampo, gepard, luocha, caelus, dr ratio, aventurine, boothill, gallagher, moze, jiaoqiu, sunday x gn! reader

warnings. just fluff

a/n. i love this idea sm omg!! this is so cute and adorable, thank you so much for popping in!

wc. 10.6k

synopsis. testing the hsr men to see if they really like you or not...

recommend listening to: blue - yung kai

caelus

✧ caelus is feeling a mix of patience and confusion. mostly confusion.

✧ you’d stress them out by acting overly distant or cryptic with your words. of course, this would be a bit too mean but.... you needed to know whether or not he truly liked you or not!!!

✧  now caelus always has this quiet confidence about him, a grounded presence that somehow keeps you both intrigued and comforted. you’ve been walking the line between friendship and something more for weeks now—soft smiles, lingering touches, and late-night conversations that stretch into the early morning. but neither of you has made the leap to define it, and the uncertainty starts to gnaw at you.

✧ so, you decide to test him. not out of malice, but out of curiosity—does he care as much as you think he does? or are you misreading everything?

✧ it starts small. you "accidentally" forget your jacket during a particularly chilly day on the xianzhou luofu. "it's fine," you say, feigning nonchalance as you rub your arms. "i’ll survive."

✧ caelus, who notices everything, doesn’t hesitate. without a word, he shrugs off his coat and drapes it over your shoulders. it’s warm and smells faintly like him—clean and earthy.

✧ "you’ll catch a cold," he says simply, his expression unreadable. but the way his fingers linger at your shoulder for a moment longer than necessary sends a shiver down your spine.

✧ okay, you think. that’s a point for him.

✧ but you don’t stop there. later, as the two of you work together to sort some scattered archives, you sigh dramatically. "i’m so bad at this," you say, even though you’ve already figured out the system. "caelus, can you help me? i think i’m doing it all wrong."

✧ he glances at you, eyebrows raised slightly. he knows you’re capable—you’ve proven it plenty of times.

✧ "really?" he asks, his tone soft but teasing. "you seem like you’ve got it handled."

✧ but he still moves to your side, explaining the process again with patience and care. you can’t help but notice how close he stands, the way his arm brushes against yours.

✧ another point, you mentally tally, biting back a smile.

✧ the final "test" happens that evening. the two of you are sitting on a bench overlooking the bustling streets below. you lean your head back, sighing loudly.

✧ "caelus," you start, your tone heavy with faux melancholy, "do you ever think... maybe we’re wasting our time? like, maybe this—whatever this is—isn’t worth it?"

✧ his head snaps toward you so fast you almost laugh. his usual calm demeanor falters for a moment, and there’s a flicker of something raw in his amber eyes.

✧ "what are you trying to say?" he asks, his voice lower than usual.

✧ suddenly, the air feels heavier. you weren’t expecting such a serious reaction, and it makes your chest tighten.

✧ "i mean..." you hesitate, suddenly feeling a little guilty for pushing him. "i don’t know. it just feels like maybe we’re stuck in this limbo, you know?"

✧ he stares at you for a moment, his gaze searching. then, he exhales softly, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees. "if you think this isn’t worth it," he says, his voice steady but quiet, "then tell me. but don’t assume i feel the same."

✧ your heart stutters at his words.

✧ "you don’t?" you ask, your voice barely above a whisper. he turns to look at you again, his expression soft but serious.

✧ "no," he says firmly. "you mean a lot to me. more than you realize. i’m just... waiting for you to figure out how much you mean to me too."

✧ and just like that, the test is over. you realize you didn’t need to test him at all—he’s always been steady, always been sure. it was you who needed the reassurance, and he gave it to you without hesitation.

✧ as the silence stretches between you, you feel the weight of his coat still draped over your shoulders. you finally let yourself smile, leaning closer to him.

✧ "okay," you murmur. "i get it now."

✧ he doesn’t say anything, but the small, satisfied smile that tugs at his lips says enough.

gepard

✧ poor gepard takes your “test” far too seriously.

✧ (his face falls immediately, and he starts overthinking everything he’s ever done. he’d even try to change his habits, stumbling through awkward attempts to “loosen up.” “i—i can be fun! watch this!” (proceeds to try something clumsy.))

✧ testing gepard’s feelings feels almost unfair. he’s so earnest, so genuine, that you almost feel bad for trying to push his limits. but a little part of you—it’s that gnawing insecurity, that need for reassurance—wants to see how much he’s willing to handle for you.

✧ it starts during a routine patrol around belobog. you walk beside him, pretending to be engrossed in your surroundings, but you’re really watching him out of the corner of your eye. his posture is as perfect as always, his hand resting on the hilt of his sword, eyes scanning for any sign of trouble.

✧ "gepard," you say suddenly, interrupting the calm. he turns to you immediately, his expression softening. "yes?"

✧ you fake a dramatic sigh. "do you ever think you work too hard? like... maybe you’re so busy being a model captain that you don’t have time for other things?"

✧ his brows furrow slightly, clearly not expecting this question. "what do you mean?"

✧ "i mean, what if someone in your life needed more of your attention? would you even notice?"

✧ he stops walking, turning to face you fully. there’s a flash of concern in his blue eyes, and you almost feel guilty for how well this is working.

✧ "if someone needed me," he says, his voice steady but laced with worry, "i’d do everything in my power to be there for them. are you... trying to tell me something?"

✧ you wave your hand dismissively, laughing lightly. "oh, no, just a hypothetical. don’t worry about it." he doesn’t look convinced, but he nods and resumes walking, though you notice he stays closer to your side after that.

✧ later, you decide to push a little harder. when the two of you are back at the overworld base, you feign exhaustion, slumping dramatically onto a nearby bench.

✧ "i’m so tired," you complain, rubbing your temples. "today was so stressful. i don’t think i can even move."

✧ before you can say anything else, gepard is already at your side. he crouches slightly, his hands hovering awkwardly as if he’s not sure whether he should offer to help you up or just sit beside you.

✧ "you should have said something earlier," he says, his voice full of concern. "if you’re overworked, you need to take a break. here, let me—"

✧ you cut him off with a teasing smile. "what are you going to do, carry me around belobog like some kind of knight in shining armor?" he freezes for a moment, his cheeks flushing pink. "i mean... if you needed me to, i would."

✧ you weren’t expecting such a sincere answer, and it throws you off balance. your heart flutters, but you’re determined to keep the act going.

✧ "you’re too sweet, gepard," you say with a grin. "but don’t worry, i’m fine. just testing you a little." his blush deepens, and he shifts nervously. "testing me?"

✧ "yeah," you admit, leaning back against the bench. "just wanted to see how far you’d go for me."

✧ he frowns, clearly conflicted. "you don’t need to test me," he says quietly. "if something’s bothering you, you can just tell me. i’d rather you be honest than try to figure things out on your own."

✧ his words hit you harder than you expected, and you suddenly feel a little guilty.

✧ "you’re right," you mumble, looking down at your hands. "sorry, i didn’t mean to make you worry."

✧ he sighs softly, then sits beside you, his shoulder brushing yours. "it’s okay," he says after a moment. "i just... care about you. a lot. and i want you to know that you never have to doubt it."

✧ you glance at him, his expression as open and honest as ever, and your heart aches in the best way.

✧ "thanks, gepard," you say softly.

✧ he smiles, and it’s so warm and genuine that you know you didn’t need to test him in the first place. he’s always been exactly who he says he is—steadfast, caring, and utterly devoted.

✧ “please, don’t do that again. my heart can’t take it. but... i do care about you more than anything.”

dr. ratio

✧ dr. ratio sees through your “stress test” almost immediately, being as perceptive as he is.

✧ testing dr. ratio feels like trying to rattle an unshakable pillar—he’s sharp, meticulous, and composed to the point where you’re almost certain he’ll see through you immediately. but your curiosity gets the better of you. you want to see if the normally calm and collected doctor could ever crack, even slightly, under your antics.

✧ you decide to start small, choosing to "stress" him out during one of his intense research sessions.

✧ "dr. ratio," you call out from across the lab, your tone light and teasing.

✧ he doesn’t look up from his holopad. "yes?"

✧ "can you explain this to me again? i swear i just don’t get it."

✧ you hold up a tablet displaying a simple analysis you’re perfectly capable of interpreting. it’s the third time you’ve asked him about something today, and you’re sure he’s starting to notice.

✧ he sighs, finally lifting his gaze to meet yours. "are you sure you’re not just overthinking it?"

✧ "maybe," you say, shrugging. "or maybe you’re just bad at explaining things."

✧ that earns you a sharp look, and for a split second, you think you’ve actually pushed too far. but then his lips twitch, a flicker of amusement breaking through his usual stoicism.

✧ "bad at explaining things?" he repeats, setting his holopad down. "are you testing my patience, or are you testing my intelligence?"

✧ "both," you reply with a cheeky grin. he chuckles softly, shaking his head. "if you wanted my attention, you could’ve just asked."

✧ despite his calm exterior, you notice the subtle way he shifts closer to you, his focus entirely on you now. you can’t help but feel a small thrill of triumph, though you know you’re playing with fire.

✧ later, you decide to up the stakes. while he’s meticulously organizing data, you lean against the desk, deliberately placing your hand over one of his charts.

✧ "do you ever think about taking a break?" you ask, tilting your head at him. "you work so much, it’s like you’re married to your lab."

✧ he arches an eyebrow, his gaze flicking to your hand covering his work. "and if i am? does that bother you?"

✧ "a little," you admit, your tone teasing. "what if you end up ignoring more important things?"

✧ he leans back in his chair, crossing his arms as he studies you. "and what would those ‘important things’ be?"

✧ his voice is calm, but there’s a glint in his eyes that makes you feel like you’ve walked right into his trap. "me, obviously," you say, trying to maintain your confidence.

✧ he hums thoughtfully, as if considering your words. then, without warning, he reaches out and gently flicks your forehead.

✧ "you’re not very subtle," he says, a faint smirk tugging at his lips.

✧ "ouch," you say, rubbing your forehead with a pout. "was that necessary?"

✧ "completely," he replies smoothly. "if you’re going to test me, at least make it challenging."

✧ his words leave you flustered, and you quickly retreat from his desk, muttering something about needing fresh air. but later, when he finds you in the lounge, he sets a cup of tea in front of you without a word.

✧ "what’s this for?" you ask, looking up at him.

✧ "you seemed tense earlier," he says simply. "and since you’re so concerned about me ignoring important things, I thought I’d remind you that you’re one of them."

✧ your heart skips a beat at his casual declaration, and for once, you’re at a loss for words. he smirks at your reaction, clearly pleased with himself, before walking away, leaving you to process his unexpected yet reassuring gesture.

✧ turns out, dr. ratio isn’t so easy to test—but he makes it clear that he’s always paying attention.

✧ however, he sits you down for a serious talk afterward. “you don’t need to test me. i like you—that much should be obvious by now.”

aventurine

✧ aventurine takes your antics in stride but is clearly not one to tolerate nonsense for long.

✧ but in all seriousness it feels like you're trying to move a mountain. his steadfastness and confidence make it seem impossible to throw him off balance, but you’re determined to see how deep his patience and affection run. you tell yourself it’s just curiosity, but deep down, you crave the reassurance that this larger-than-life man truly feels the same way you do.

✧ it begins subtly, during one of his routine mineral inspections. he’s meticulously cataloging a haul of rare crystals when you decide to “help.”

✧ “aventurine, what’s this one called?” you ask, holding up a dazzling gem you already know the name of.

✧ he barely glances up, his deep voice calm and measured. “that’s a starshard geode. its structure is—”

✧ “wait, wait,” you interrupt, turning it over in your hands. “are you sure? it kinda looks like... a moonstone?”

✧ his head finally lifts, and he looks at you with a mixture of amusement and mild disbelief. “a moonstone? not even close. are you trying to challenge my expertise?”

✧ “maybe,” you tease, placing the gem back in the wrong compartment.

✧ he sighs, but there’s no frustration in his expression, only a patient shake of his head as he moves the gem back to its proper place. “you’re impossible,” he mutters, though there’s a small smile tugging at his lips.

✧ later, you decide to turn up the heat. as he’s polishing a massive chunk of raw celestium, you sit nearby, swinging your legs off the edge of the table.

✧ “aventurine,” you say sweetly.

✧ “mm?” he responds without looking up.

✧ “do you ever get tired of being around me?”

✧ that gets his attention. he pauses mid-polish, his golden eyes narrowing slightly as he turns to face you fully. “what kind of question is that?”

✧ you shrug, feigning nonchalance. “i mean, i can be annoying sometimes. don’t you ever just... wish for some peace and quiet?”

✧ he sets the celestium down with deliberate care and crosses his arms, his imposing figure suddenly feeling even larger.

✧ “you’re trying to get a reaction out of me,” he says plainly, his voice as steady as the ground beneath your feet.

✧ “what? me? no way,” you reply, trying to sound innocent.

✧ he steps closer, leaning down so his face is level with yours. his expression is serious, but there’s a flicker of amusement in his gaze.

✧ “if i wanted peace and quiet, i wouldn’t be here,” he says firmly. “do you really think i’d waste my time with someone i don’t care about?”

✧ his straightforwardness leaves you momentarily stunned, and he chuckles softly at your silence. “you don’t need to test me, you know,” he adds, his tone softening. “if you have doubts, just ask. i don’t like games, but i’ll always give you the truth.”

✧ you feel a pang of guilt for pushing him, but his reassurance warms your heart. “sorry,” you mumble, looking down. “i just wanted to be sure...”

✧ he reaches out, gently lifting your chin so you’re forced to meet his gaze.

✧ “then let me make it clear,” he says, his golden eyes unwavering. “you matter to me. and that’s not going to change, no matter how many gems you mislabel.”

✧ you laugh softly, the tension melting away as his words sink in. it was clear that his affection for you is as solid and enduring as the earth itself.

boothill

✧ boothill is rough around the edges but has a soft spot for you, so your little test catches him off guard.

✧ boothill's unmovable, stone-faced, and never shows signs of cracking, no matter what you throw his way. but that’s exactly why you’re so curious. you’ve seen his stoic side, his professionalism, and his dedication, but does that mean there’s any space for you in that heart of his? you decide to try and test the waters.

✧ it begins in a quiet moment, after a long mission. you’re both back at the base, sitting side by side on a bench. boothill is cleaning his weapon, his focus so intense that it feels like nothing in the world could distract him. you watch him for a moment, then decide to start.

✧ “boothill,” you call out softly.

✧ he doesn’t look up, but you see his fingers pause for a fraction of a second before he resumes cleaning his weapon.

✧ “yeah?”

✧ “do you ever wonder if you’re too... distant? i mean, you’re always so focused, so serious. don’t you ever need to relax a bit?”

✧ he glances at you now, his piercing gaze meeting yours for just a second. but he doesn’t answer right away, instead just continuing with his task.

✧ “relaxing isn’t exactly something i prioritize,” he replies with his usual calm. “there’s work to be done.”

✧ you scoff lightly, pushing your luck a little. “work, work, work. what about you, huh? when’s it your turn to... i don’t know, enjoy life? have some fun?”

✧ he looks at you then, and there’s something almost unreadable in his expression. his eyes soften just a fraction, and he lets out a small sigh.

✧ “if you think i don’t enjoy life, you’re wrong,” he says, voice low but surprisingly tender. “i just don’t need distractions.”

✧ you press a little more, feeling a mischievous spark inside you. “so, you’re saying you don’t need me to distract you?”

✧ boothill stops what he’s doing for a moment, and this time, he stares at you, really staring. for a split second, you think you’ve gone too far. but then he leans back, folding his arms across his chest, a slight smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.

✧ “testing me, huh?” he says, his voice laced with dry amusement. “you’re a little more persistent than i expected.”

✧ you shrug nonchalantly, hoping your nonchalance hides the fact that your heart is pounding. “i just want to know if you care, boothill. i mean, you’re so... detached sometimes. how do i know it’s not all just professional to you?”

✧ his gaze softens, and for a brief moment, there’s a vulnerability in his eyes that catches you off guard. then, without warning, he reaches out and gently grabs your hand, pulling it into his lap.

✧ “care?” he murmurs, his thumb stroking the back of your hand in slow, deliberate movements. “i care more than you know.”

✧ your breath catches in your throat, and you feel the weight of his words settle over you like a blanket. the walls he’s built around himself are still there, but now, you realize that inside, there’s room for you.

✧ “you don’t need to test me for that,” he adds, his voice low and reassuring. “just... don’t expect me to show it the same way as everyone else.”

✧ you can feel the sincerity in his touch, in his gaze, and something inside you finally clicks. boothill’s love is subtle, understated, and a little rough around the edges, but it’s real.

✧ “i get it,” you whisper, squeezing his hand gently. “sorry for making you doubt me.”

✧ he chuckles quietly, a rare sound that makes your heart flutter. “you’re relentless. but that’s why i like you.”

✧ and there it is—he may not always wear his heart on his sleeve, but boothill’s love for you is unwavering, and that’s something you can rely on, even if it’s not always obvious.

gallagher

✧ gallagher is as easygoing as they come, but even he has limits.

✧ it starts innocently enough—just a playful attempt to poke at his carefully maintained composure. he’s in the middle of preparing a meal, the scent of fresh herbs and sizzling meat filling the air as he moves about the kitchen with his usual precision. you, however, are seated at the table, tapping your fingers lightly against the wood, watching him with a raised eyebrow.

✧ “gallagher,” you start, your voice casual but laced with curiosity.

✧ “hm?” he replies, glancing at you briefly before returning to his task.

✧ “how do you always manage to keep your cool? i mean, don’t you ever get tired of being so... well, perfect?”

✧ he doesn’t look up this time, but there’s a subtle shift in the air, like he’s sensing you’re trying to test him. his movements are smooth and measured, and he doesn’t skip a beat as he finishes plating the food.

✧ “there’s no point in losing composure over things that don’t matter,” he says matter-of-factly, as if it’s the simplest thing in the world. “chaos doesn’t make for a good meal.”

✧ you bite your lip, leaning back in your chair. “so, you’re saying everything has to be ‘in its place’ with you? even with people?”

✧ his hands freeze for just a moment, and you catch a flicker of something in his expression—maybe amusement, maybe something else. but it’s gone as quickly as it came. he finishes plating the meal with a soft sigh, setting the plate in front of you.

✧ “i’m not a machine, if that’s what you’re implying,” he says, finally meeting your gaze. “i’m not perfect. i just prefer things to be organized—helps with focus.”

✧ you raise an eyebrow, pushing a bit more. “oh? and does that mean you like it when people don’t mess with your focus? or is that just a ‘you’ thing?”

✧ gallagher pauses, studying you carefully. for a moment, the air is thick with tension, but then he smirks slightly, a glimmer of teasing in his eyes.

✧ “messing with my focus?” he repeats, his voice playful now. “is that what you’re doing? because, if i’m being honest, it’s working. you’ve got my attention now.”

✧ you blink, taken aback by his response. you expected him to brush it off, but instead, he steps closer, his presence a little more imposing now.

✧ “you know,” he continues, his tone lower, “you’re not as subtle as you think you are. but i’ll give you points for persistence.”

✧ you try to recover, but there’s something about the way he looks at you that leaves you speechless for a moment.

✧ “persistence?” you murmur, a little breathless.

✧ he nods, his smile softening just enough to show you that it’s genuine. “you’ve got a lot of questions, but i don’t need to play games with you. if you want answers, just ask. you don’t have to test me to find out if i’m interested.”

✧ his words hit you harder than you expected, and you realize that gallagher isn’t someone to hide his feelings. it’s not that he’s cold—he’s just direct. he’ll never say it in the way you might expect, but his actions speak louder than anything else.

✧ “i guess i’m just used to waiting for things to fall into place,” you admit, trying to play it cool.

✧ he leans in slightly, the faintest hint of humor in his eyes. “you don’t have to wait with me. i’m already here.”

✧ his tone is simple, but it carries a weight of meaning that makes your heart skip a beat. gallagher doesn’t do drama, but when he gives you his attention, it’s clear that he’s all in, no matter how much he might downplay it.

moze

✧ moze is a man of few words, and your antics genuinely confuse him. 😰😰

✧  he's calm, composed, and always so serious, which makes you determined to break through that cold, unreadable exterior. you’ve decided to test his limits, just to see if you can get a real reaction out of him.

✧ it starts on a typical day after a mission. you’re sitting across from him in the common room, watching as he pores over some data logs. your usual routine involves making things just a little more interesting for him, because let’s face it—moze needs to lighten up.

✧ “moze,” you say, a grin tugging at your lips.

✧ he doesn’t look up, but you can see the slight twitch of his eyebrow. “what is it?”

✧ you make a show of examining the ceiling, tapping your chin dramatically. “have you ever wondered if the world is actually upside down? like, maybe gravity's all wrong, and we’re just... stuck to the floor by pure luck?”

✧ moze pauses for a split second, probably wondering how you can turn a perfectly normal moment into this. then, without missing a beat, he glances at you, deadpan.

✧ “if the world was upside down, i assume you'd be the one stuck on the ceiling by pure luck,” he says flatly, already returning to his work.

✧ you burst into laughter, but moze doesn’t even flinch, just continues typing, his expression still as composed as ever. he’s like a stone statue, and it’s honestly a little impressive.

✧ “okay, okay,” you say, wiping a tear from your eye. “let’s try something different.” you lean forward, eyes sparkling with mischief. “do you ever get bored? you know, just sitting there all serious, pretending like you’re too busy to talk?”

✧ this time, he doesn’t even look up from his work. “bored? No. Are you trying to see how far you can push me before i snap?”

✧ you nod, trying not to smile too widely. “yep! How’s it going so far?”

✧ moze lets out a soft sigh, clearly unamused but still managing to hold his ground. “i’m doing great. You, on the other hand... are a handful.”

✧ “a handful? me?” you gasp dramatically, clutching your chest. “I’m hurt, moze. I’m just trying to keep things interesting around here!”

✧ his lips twitch ever so slightly, but it’s almost imperceptible. “you’re making it interesting... in the same way that throwing a tantrum in a library is interesting.”

✧ you tilt your head, pretending to consider this for a moment. “so, you’re saying you don’t like chaos?”

✧ “i like order,” he says, never looking away from the screen. “but if you’re asking if you can test my patience, then yes, you’re doing a very good job of that.”

✧ you giggle, thoroughly entertained by the way he’s handling you. "oh, come on, just admit it. you love the chaos! You secretly think it's hilarious when I mess with you."

✧ moze looks up at you for the first time in a while, his expression still all business but with the tiniest glimmer of amusement in his eyes. “if by hilarious, you mean mildly irritating, then yes.”

✧ “mildly?!” you gasp in faux offense. “I’m doing my best here, moze! how could you rate my efforts so low?”

✧ he leans back slightly in his chair, finally breaking his stoic routine. “honestly, i’m impressed you’re still going. most people would’ve given up by now.”

✧ “well, i'm not ‘most people,’ am I?” you reply with a cheeky smile.

✧ he smirks ever so slightly, though it’s mostly to himself. “no. clearly.”

✧ you can’t help but giggle, because while moze definitely isn’t as easily rattled as others, it’s clear he’s starting to find the humor in your antics.

✧ “admit it, moze,” you tease. “i’m the most fun you’ve had all week.”

✧ he raises an eyebrow, finally closing the data pad and turning his full attention to you. “if by ‘fun’ you mean ‘annoying distraction,’ then yes.”

✧ you stick your tongue out at him playfully. “you love me, admit it.”

✧ moze chuckles dryly, though it’s far from his usual serious tone. “you’re impossible. But for some reason, i don’t mind.”

✧ “there it is!” you exclaim, pointing dramatically. “the confession! finally!”

✧ he sighs, but there’s a hint of fondness in his eyes now. “don’t push your luck. i’m still not letting you off the hook for the chaos you’ve caused.”

✧ you grin, leaning back in your seat, satisfied. “you can’t get rid of me that easily, moze. get used to it.”

✧ “i’m already used to it,” he mutters under his breath, pinching the bridge of his nose and shaking his head.

jiaoqiu

✧ jiaoqiu is calm and composed, but your “test” slowly chips away at his patience.

✧ his idea of "testing" his patience feels almost like trying to mess with a finely tuned recipe—you know that if you push too far, something could spoil, but you can't resist seeing how he’ll react. the thing about jiaoqiu is that he’s blind, but that doesn’t stop him from being as sharp as a knife when it comes to his senses. especially when it comes to cooking—his true passion.

✧ you’ve noticed something about him, though. the more you “stress” him, the more attentive he gets, in his own way. it’s kind of like the game’s in his favor, and you’re slowly realizing he might be playing right along with you.

✧ one evening, you’re hanging out in the kitchen with jiaoqiu, and you’ve already decided to take your "testing" to the next level. as he prepares some of his signature dishes—no surprise, they're the most complex meals imaginable, even though he can't see a thing—you're doing your best to throw him off.

✧ “jiaoqiu, are you sure you don’t want me to help with that? it looks... dangerous,” you tease, noticing the steam rising from the pot in front of him.

✧ “dangerous?” he repeats, clearly amused but not thrown off. he moves deftly around the kitchen, the sound of his chopping board in the background. “my dear, cooking isn’t dangerous unless you’re trying to make something impossible.”

✧ you laugh softly, leaning against the counter. “so, you’re saying if I started pulling the wrong spices out, you wouldn’t even notice?”

✧ he pauses, then lets out a small chuckle of his own. “i might not see it, but i can certainly smell it. and don’t think i don’t know when you’re reaching for something you shouldn’t be.”

✧ you feign shock, dramatically holding your hands up as if caught in the act. “i would never! i have complete respect for your culinary expertise!”

✧ jiaoqiu hums, as if pondering your words, but then he continues his cooking with that quiet confidence he always carries. “you’d be more convincing if you didn’t have that mischievous glint in your eye.”

✧ your grin widens. it’s clear he’s onto you now, but you still try to push. “well, how would you know? You can't see, after all.”

✧ “true,” he replies calmly, “but i know the sounds of the kitchen well enough. if you were to drop something, or mess with the ingredients... i’d hear it. the rhythm of it all gives me a good idea of what’s happening.”

✧ you blink, stunned. you had been testing him, but jiaoqiu seems to always be one step ahead. how does he know? how can he be so confident?

✧ “and,” he adds, his voice still soft but with a hint of playfulness, “i know you, [your name].”

✧ you laugh, finally admitting defeat. “okay, okay! you got me. but seriously, how do you do it? how do you know where everything is?”

✧ he pauses his cooking and turns toward you, his voice warm yet full of humor. “let’s say i’ve had a lot of practice. and when you love something as much as i love cooking, you learn to rely on all your senses, not just sight. even when you can’t see, your other senses fill in the gaps.”

✧ you watch him work for a moment, and despite his lack of eyesight, he’s a master in the kitchen. it’s clear that his expertise comes from much more than just the act of cooking; it’s a connection to the ingredients, the textures, the sounds of each step.

✧ “okay, but what if i really messed something up? what if i did something totally wrong, just to mess with you?”

✧ he raises an eyebrow—something that’s only visible through his voice, but you get the feeling he’s smirking. “well, if you did that, i’d probably just end up fixing it before you even noticed. and then i’d make you do the dishes.”

✧ you groan, defeated but also thoroughly entertained. “you’re way too good at this.”

✧ “you’re the one testing me, not the other way around,” jiaoqiu reminds you, returning his focus to his cooking. but this time, you can hear the faint warmth in his tone, a reassurance that’s just for you. “but don’t worry, i’m not going to let you ruin dinner. even if you try to be a little mischievous.”

✧ there’s something comforting in the way he handles it all—the teasing, the games you play, even the mess-ups you deliberately throw his way. he may not be able to see you, but you know he can feel your presence, your energy, and you can’t help but feel safe in it. despite his teasing, despite the quiet confidence, jiaoqiu has a way of making everything feel just... right.

✧ “next time,” you say, grinning, “i’m going to really throw you off.”

✧ jiaoqiu just laughs softly, shaking his head as he finishes up his dish. “i’ll be waiting, [your name]. i’ll be waiting.”

✧  “but uh, next time, just ask me. there’s no need for this kind of... drama.”

sunday

✧ sunday is all sunshine and joy, but even he can get flustered when you start testing him.

✧ sunday is a halovian, with those distinct small fluffy wings nestled around his neck—adorably soft and always twitching with his every mood. you’ve learned that while he might seem all chill and sunny on the surface, he’s got his own quirks, and if you push him far enough, he’s more likely to play along than snap at you.

✧ one day, you’re lounging in the living area, and sunday’s sitting across from you, lazily flipping through a book. you can’t resist; it’s time for some mischief.

✧ “hey, sunday,” you call, trying to hide your grin.

✧ “yeah?” he replies, looking off guard. "have you ever been nervous before? like, nervous nervous?"

✧ “nervous? me? c’mon, i’m practically impossible to ruffle.” he gives you a lighthearted shrug, but you can see the playful challenge in his eyes. he’s used to keeping things breezy, but you’ve caught his attention now.

✧ you press on, deciding to have a little more fun with this. “oh really? well, let’s see... I’ve got a whole list of ways I could mess with you.”

✧ sunday doesn’t seem fazed at first, but you notice the way his fluffy wings twitch a little more with each word you say. it’s like a radar for his mood—you know he’s still calm, but there’s something in the way his feathers ruffle when he’s listening to you.

✧ “well, you’ll have to be a lot sneakier than that if you want to get under my skin,” he says, flashing you that signature grin of his, but now you can see a little spark of competitiveness in his eyes.

✧ you, of course, aren’t backing down. “let’s see if i can. hey, sunday, do you ever get tired of being all... perfect?” you ask, making air quotes around "perfect" with your hands.

✧ sunday’s wings flutter again, and this time, you catch the faintest shift in his posture. “perfect?” he asks, trying to play it off, but there’s a subtle twitch in the fluff near his neck. “you’re really gonna call me perfect? what’s wrong with that?”

✧ oh, he’s biting now. perfect. you lean in, voice teasing. “well, it just seems a little... too easy, don’t you think? i mean, you’re always so relaxed, always in control. how do you even do it?”

✧ you can see sunday’s lips twitch in amusement, and his wings give an exaggerated little flutter, like they’re bristling. he’s definitely aware now, but the best part is how he's trying to play it cool, still acting like he’s the one in control.

✧ “you really think i’ve got it all under control, huh?” he responds, a bit of a challenge creeping into his tone. “well, i guess i am pretty awesome. i mean, who could resist all this charm?” he gestures to himself dramatically, his wings fluffing out like he’s proud of the effect they have.

✧ you laugh, but don’t let up. “oh, i’m sure the charm works, but... do you ever get tired of being this smooth?” you tease, pretending to think it over. “i mean, surely you get a little flustered once in a while, right? just a little bit?”

✧ that’s when you see it—a small, barely perceptible shift. sunday’s wings twitch against his neck, brushing lightly as he tries to keep his expression neutral, but you catch it. there’s a softening in his demeanor, a slight heat creeping into his tone.

✧ “huh. so now i’m too smooth?” he teases, but it’s a little less confident now. “maybe you’re just getting good at finding my weak spots.”

✧ you smile, leaning back triumphantly. “maybe. or maybe you’re just too easy to read, sunday.”

✧ he narrows his eyes playfully, but you catch the small, almost imperceptible shift in his posture as his wings flutter just a little more. it's like they’re signaling his internal shift—he’s starting to realize you’re not just playing around.

✧ “okay, okay,” sunday says with a dramatic sigh, his wings now fully unfurled behind him like a soft, fluffy halo. he rubs the back of his neck and gives you a teasing look. “you wanna stress me out, huh? well, guess i’ll have to turn the tables a little.”

✧ with that, sunday leans closer, grinning mischievously. his wings brush against his neck again, this time on purpose, causing a soft, tickling sensation that makes you jump a little.

✧ “how’s this?” he asks, and now, you realize—he’s playing his own game. “i think we’re gonna see how you handle me.”

✧ sunday’s easygoing nature mixed with his unexpected turn in this little game makes it all the more fun. as he continues to toy with you, you can’t help but laugh at how well he’s handled your antics.

✧ “alright, alright,” you admit, finally letting the game end, “you win. i’ll stop testing your patience... for now.”

✧ his wings flutter triumphantly behind him as he gives you a mock salute, his grin still wide and playful. “you’re welcome to try again any time, [name]. but you should know—I don’t get flustered that easily. unless...” he pauses, giving you a teasing look, “...you do something even crazier next time.”

✧ you can’t help but smile back. sunday’s laid-back nature might be hard to crack, but it’s clear—he does enjoy the game, and in the end, he’s always up for a little bit of fun at your expense.

jing yuan

✧ jing yuan usually keeps his composure, but when you start “testing” his patience, he begins to crack ever so slightly.

✧ jing yuan is the epitome of calm, controlled elegance. he carries himself like a well-balanced scale, measured in his actions and words, always composed, always unfazed. but when you start testing him that balance teeters, just a little, though he’s careful to maintain his outward serenity.

✧ you know he's a man of patience, but every person has their breaking point—and you're curious to see how far you can push his.

✧ it all starts innocently enough, a bit of teasing and mild mischief on your part. you might "accidentally" misplace his paperwork, or maybe ask him endless trivial questions when you know he’s buried in his work. you’re not being cruel, of course—just playful, testing the waters to see if he’ll falter.

✧ he humors you at first, a chuckle escaping his lips when you ask something particularly silly. “what is it, my dear?” he asks, a gentle smile tugging at his lips, his golden eyes never leaving his work. “another question for me?”

✧ but as the questions come one after another, you start to notice a shift. his pen slows, and for a moment, his fingers still. he leans back in his chair, gaze lifting to meet yours.

“you’re playing a dangerous game, my dear,” he says, his voice low, but laced with amusement. “are you testing me to see if i’ll lose interest? because i can assure you, i won’t.”

✧ there’s a sharpness to his tone now, the calm facade slipping just slightly. it's subtle, but you catch it—a flicker of something deeper behind his eyes. his gaze darkens with an unreadable emotion, and for the first time, you wonder if you've pushed him too far.

✧ but you’re not one to back down easily, so you keep going, shifting the game into a new gear. you become a little more persistent, trying to get under his skin without being too obvious. you ask more ridiculous questions, throw in more distractions, all in the name of seeing how he reacts. surely, a man like jing yuan, so steady and composed, would get annoyed eventually, right?

✧ you watch him for a long moment, his gaze steady and unwavering. His fingers tap lightly on the edge of the desk, his lips curling into a knowing smile.

✧ "is that what you're after?" he asks, his voice softer, but with a certain challenge in it. "you wish to see how far i'll bend? to see if i can be swayed by such... antics?"

✧ your breath catches in your throat, and you wonder if you’ve finally crossed the line. but instead of growing irritated, jing yuan does something entirely unexpected. he sets his pen down with a deliberate motion and stands up, walking around to your side of the desk. his presence looms over you in the most comforting, yet commanding way.

✧ before you can even react, he reaches for your hand, his touch warm and steady. “i can’t help but wonder…” he begins, his voice dipping into something more intimate, more affectionate than you were prepared for. “did you think you could test me without consequences?”

✧ you blink up at him, the playful tension suddenly replaced by a sense of vulnerability. there’s something in his eyes now, a deep knowing.

✧ without waiting for an answer, he leans down, his lips brushing lightly against your ear. “you’re not the only one who can play games, [name],” he murmurs, his warm breath sending a shiver down your spine.

✧ you’re thrown off balance. the tables have turned, and now it’s you who’s feeling slightly flustered. where you were once testing him, now he’s testing you. he’s suddenly more attentive, more affectionate, drawing you in with every word, every touch.

✧ he chuckles softly when he sees your reaction, his golden eyes glinting with amusement. “you didn’t think i’d let you have all the fun, did you?” he teases. “i must admit, i’m rather enjoying this.”

✧ you open your mouth to respond, but all you manage is a soft laugh, caught between trying to keep your composure and wanting to give in to the sudden wave of warmth he’s throwing your way.

✧ “alright, jing yuan,” you say, trying to maintain your cool, but failing miserably. “i’ll admit defeat... for now.”

✧ his smile widens, a gentle but confident grin. “defeat? no, my dear. this isn’t about defeat. this is about knowing where we stand. and now that i’ve shown you, i expect no more games.”

✧ his words hang in the air like a promise, and you realize he’s not just testing you—he’s reassuring you, in his own way. with him, you never had to worry about being lost in his affection, because it’s clear: he’s always there, steady as ever.

✧ and just like that, the game you started has ended—only now, it’s more than you ever expected.

dan heng

✧ dan heng is the embodiment of calm and collected. his reserved nature and stoic expression almost never crack, even under the most trying of circumstances. it takes a lot to throw him off balance, which is why you’ve made it your mission to see if you can break that calm demeanor of his—just a little.

✧ at first, you start small. maybe you ask him to help you with something you’re perfectly capable of doing yourself, like reaching for a book you’re clearly just a bit too lazy to grab. you catch him off guard, but as expected, he’s kind enough to help without comment.

✧ “thank you, dan heng,” you say with an exaggerated sigh of relief.

✧ he gives you a short, quiet nod, his expression unchanged. “it’s no trouble,” he mutters, though there’s a faint suspicion in his voice.

✧ you smile innocently, but it’s not lost on you how quickly he’s growing aware of your game. so, you keep at it, asking for more and more “help” with things you’re fully capable of doing on your own. every time he obliges, you see his eyes narrow ever so slightly, and you can almost feel the gears turning in his head as he processes what's going on.

✧ “dan heng,” you ask one day, leaning into the playful tension between you two, “could you pass me the salt?” the shaker’s right in front of you, of course.

✧ there’s a long pause. his gaze flicks over to the salt shaker, then back to you, his brow furrowing just the tiniest bit. “you’re not really that helpless, are you?” he asks, his voice quiet but sharp.

✧ you feign surprise. “i’m not? you sure?”

✧ he doesn’t respond right away, his fingers tapping lightly on the surface of the table. you can practically see the wheels turning behind his eyes.

✧ “i know you’re not,” he says finally, voice even but tinged with a little irritation now. “so, what are you trying to prove?”

✧ you chuckle softly, realizing you’ve definitely gotten under his skin now. but it’s more out of curiosity than malice—you want to see how far you can go before he snaps, how long he’ll let you test him before he turns the tables.

✧ “oh, nothing,” you say innocently. “just wanted to see if you’d do it without asking questions.”

✧ dan heng’s eyes narrow, and for the first time in this little game, he seems to truly study you, as if trying to gauge your intentions.

✧ “you’re not as subtle as you think,” he finally says, his tone firm but not unkind. “you’re trying to get a reaction out of me, aren’t you?”

✧ you grin, leaning back with a satisfied look. “maybe... what’s the harm?”

✧ dan heng stands up from his seat, a deep sigh escaping his lips as he slowly gathers his things. you know you’ve pushed him a little, but you’re unsure if he’s genuinely upset or just playing along.

✧ “fine,” he mutters. “you want a reaction? here it is.”

✧ you blink as he steps closer, his usual reserved demeanor slipping as he looks down at you with a slight, almost imperceptible frown. “if i didn’t care about you, i wouldn’t even be here, helping you with these ridiculous requests. so, stop trying to push my patience.”

✧ you freeze for a moment, surprised at how direct and blunt he’s being. there’s no anger in his words—just a quiet frustration, the kind that comes from realizing how much you’ve been testing him.

✧ he lets out a short laugh, shaking his head as if he can’t quite believe what he’s dealing with. “honestly, i’m not sure if you’re trying to get me to lose my patience or just see how far you can push me.”

✧ you smile sheepishly, knowing you’ve been a little relentless with your “tests.” “i guess a bit of both,” you admit, but there’s a softness in your voice now. “i just wanted to see if you’d care enough to call me out on it.”

✧ dan heng sighs deeply, but now there’s a warmth to his expression that wasn’t there before. he steps closer and places a hand gently on your shoulder, the touch more tender than you expected. “i care enough to call you out, even if it means putting up with your nonsense.”

✧ it’s quiet for a moment, but you can feel the sincerity in his words. you’ve definitely ruffled his calm, but in a way that shows just how much he’s paying attention, how much he truly cares for you.

✧ you laugh lightly, not expecting him to be so honest about it, but secretly glad to know you’ve gotten through to him. “i’ll try not to test you so much, okay?”

✧ dan heng shakes his head, a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “i’ll believe it when i see it.”

welt yang

✧ welt, being the mature and experienced gentleman he is, notices your little “test” immediately.

✧ the man is used to dealing with delicate matters, whether in his long history of research, his time as a historian, or the countless responsibilities that come with leading in times of crisis. so, when you start testing his patience, you know it’s going to take a lot more than a small inconvenience to shake him. that being said, you enjoy challenging him, just a little, to see how far you can push him.

✧ you start off small, of course. asking him the most trivial questions when he’s in the middle of reading one of his ancient books. “hey, welt,” you say sweetly, “do you think this book is boring?” the book’s not even in your hands, and he knows that you’re probably more interested in him than in the actual content of the text.

✧ at first, he doesn’t mind. he chuckles softly and lowers the book, humoring you with a small smile. “if i’m being honest, i would say it depends on your taste in reading. but you do know i can’t really afford distractions right now, right?”

✧ you smile, but this isn’t nearly enough to throw him off. you push again, dropping little hints like the fact that he’s been at his desk for hours on end and could probably use a break. you make a comment about how he’s always so serious, so focused, and maybe you should help him lighten up.

✧ “you know,” you tease, “you work too hard. you should take a break. come on, just for a minute?”

✧ welt sets the book down and looks at you, raising an eyebrow. “i’m not sure if i would call it ‘work’ if i’m doing something i enjoy, but i do appreciate the concern. perhaps you have something else in mind to keep me occupied?”

✧ his tone is light, playful even, but there’s something in his eyes that suggests he’s well aware of your intentions. he’s not the type to get easily upset, but that doesn’t mean he hasn’t picked up on your little game.

✧ “you really know how to throw me off track, don’t you?” he says with a smile, clearly amused by your antics. “is this your way of seeing how far i’ll go before i lose my cool?”

✧ you grin, not backing down. “maybe. you seem so calm all the time. i wanted to know if i could make you flinch, just a little.”

✧ welt lets out a soft laugh, leaning back in his chair. “you’re testing me now, aren’t you? i suppose i should’ve expected as much from you.”

✧ you notice his hands move to the side of his glasses, adjusting them ever so slightly, and that’s when you realize: he’s fully aware of what’s going on.

✧ “you know, it’s cute that you think i’m impervious to distractions,” he continues, clearly enjoying your playful attempts. “but perhaps you underestimate how well i’ve learned to focus in the midst of chaos.”

✧ you can’t help but laugh at that, realizing that no matter how hard you try, you’re not going to make him flinch. he’s too smooth, too used to handling these kinds of things.

✧ “maybe i should stop testing you,” you say, a bit sheepishly. “you’re just too good at staying calm.”

✧ welt smiles knowingly. “i’ve had plenty of practice, but if you really want to test me further, i’m sure there are other ways to do so.” he leans forward, raising an eyebrow, his voice turning just a bit teasing. “but i’m not so easily caught off guard, dear. if you want to see me lose my composure, you’ll have to be a little more creative.”

✧ you blink in surprise at how easily he flipped the situation on its head, and then it dawns on you: you’ve just been outplayed.

✧ he notices the realization in your expression and gives you an amused glance. “now, if you’re really interested, i can give you some advice on how to keep your distractions less obvious in the future. but don’t expect me to fall for it again so easily.”

✧ you can’t help but laugh. “alright, alright, you win this round.”

✧ welt chuckles softly, picking up his book again. “it’s not about winning or losing, but about knowing how to handle what comes your way. and if you ever need a distraction, you know where to find me.”

✧ “but do you know, if you want reassurance, you only need to ask. i don’t play games when it comes to my feelings for you.” my man does NOT play when it comes to you!! 🙅‍♀️ 🙅‍♀️

blade

✧ he is stoic, so basically this feels like poking a sleeping tiger. you’d try to stress him out by being overly affectionate in public or daringly teasing him in front of the stellaron hunters.

✧ blade is a man of few words, and even fewer smiles. so when you start poking at him, trying to get a rise out of him, you know you’re walking a fine line. but that’s exactly what you want, isn’t it? to see just how much you can push before he cracks.

✧ it starts with small, playful jabs. teasing him about his stoic nature, of course. you know he’s not the type to express himself easily, but that doesn’t stop you from trying to bring out something more from him.

✧ “blade, do you ever smile? i think i’d faint if i saw it.”

✧ you say it with a mischievous grin, watching for any sign of a reaction. his first response is the usual – a glare that could melt steel. but there’s something else in his eyes, a flicker of something that tells you he’s holding back a smirk. deep down, you know he secretly enjoys your antics.

✧ “you’re really trying to get me to laugh, aren’t you?” he says, his voice low and steady, though it has a hint of something playful beneath it.

✧ you push further, though, not willing to let up so easily. “come on, blade. you can’t possibly be that serious all the time. it’s like you’re stuck in permanent brooding mode.”

✧ and that’s when the situation takes a turn. before you can even process it, he grabs your wrist with surprising speed, pulling you close, his voice dropping even lower, sending a shiver down your spine.

✧ “you think i’d waste my time with someone i didn’t care about? don’t test me.”

✧ his words come with an intensity that you didn’t expect, his presence so overpowering that it almost takes the air out of your lungs. you blink, momentarily taken aback, but you don’t back down. the playful teasing lingers in the air, even though you can tell that you’ve crossed the line.

✧ but blade, in his own way, seems to realize that. after a moment, he releases his grip on your wrist, letting out a quiet sigh. the edge of his tone softens, just slightly.

✧ “you’re important to me,” he mutters, his voice low but genuine. “stop doubting that.”

✧ there’s no grand declaration, no flowery words. just the blunt honesty of a man who’s difficult to read, yet in his own way, he’s showing you something far deeper than what words could ever convey.

✧ you watch him for a moment, realizing that, despite all his coldness, there’s a warmth buried deep beneath the surface – one that he’s not so quick to reveal, but it’s there, unmistakable in its own quiet way.

✧ “i guess i’ll just have to take your word for it, huh?” you say with a smirk, trying to lighten the mood once more.

✧ blade doesn’t respond with a smile, but the slightest hint of amusement flickers in his eyes. and maybe, just maybe, that’s his version of a win.

sampo koski

✧ sampo loves games, so he immediately plays along with your little “test.”

✧ sampo has always been the life of the party, the one with a smile on his face and a witty comeback ready for anything. so when you start throwing him off with your uncharacteristic seriousness, it’s like throwing a wrench in his well-oiled machine of flirtations.

✧ you don’t laugh at his jokes, you don’t play along with his flirtations, and you certainly don’t give him the usual banter he’s used to. instead, you respond with an almost eerie level of calm.

✧ “oh? no witty comeback today? you’re scaring me, sweetheart,” he teases, leaning back, watching you with an exaggerated frown as though he’s genuinely concerned. you can see the twinkle in his eyes, but he’s trying to hold it together.

✧ at first, you don’t budge. you just stare at him, deadpan, giving nothing away.

✧ he blinks a few times, clearly thrown off. then, he lets out a dramatic sigh. “oh no, what’s happening? is this… a breakup? did i mess up somehow? what did i do wrong? i can change! i swear, i’ll stop with the flirtations—i’ll even stop trying to steal your snacks!" he says, eyes widening as though he's on the verge of a crisis.

✧ the way he overacts is so ridiculous that it’s hard to keep a straight face. but you’re committed, your expression still unreadable as you let him stew in the nonsense he’s coming up with.

✧ when you finally can’t hold it in anymore and let out a soft laugh, his entire demeanor shifts. in an instant, his playful grin is back, and he pulls you into a sudden hug.

✧ “sweetheart, if i didn’t like you, i wouldn’t stick around this long. but nice try!” he says between chuckles, his voice playful and warm.

✧ you can’t help but smile at his antics. he may act like he’s been genuinely stressed out, but deep down, you know he’s been enjoying every minute of your teasing.

✧ he pulls back just enough to look at you, eyes sparkling mischievously. “you really had me going there for a second. but hey, now i know you care enough to test me. i’ll take it as a compliment.”

✧ you shake your head, still amused by his dramatic performance. “don’t ever change, sampo.”

✧ he winks at you, his usual grin returning in full force. “don’t worry, sweetheart, i’m never going to change… unless it’s to make you laugh more.”

luocha

✧ luocha is patient and gentle, but even he has his limits. you’d try to test him by asking endless hypothetical questions about relationships or intentionally making vague statements about your feelings.

✧ when you start throwing questions his way, testing his patience with doubts about his feelings, you know he’ll handle it with the same serenity he always exudes. but the longer it goes on, the more you start to wonder if you’re pushing him too far.

✧ “what if someone better came along?” you ask casually, watching his expression for a hint of reaction. it’s a harmless question in your mind, but you can tell he takes it seriously.

✧ he pauses, his hand resting gently on his chin, thinking it through before answering with his usual calmness. “if someone better came along, then you’d deserve to find happiness with them, just as I would wish for your happiness no matter the circumstances.”

✧ his response isn’t what you expected. it’s thoughtful, selfless, and it makes you question your own intentions. but you can’t help yourself – you press on, seeking reassurance in the form of his steady words.

✧ “but what if you don’t feel the same as you did before? what if you find someone who catches your eye more than me?”

✧ luocha’s gaze softens as he listens to your words. there’s no anger in his eyes, no irritation. only concern, as if he’s trying to understand why you would even think such a thing. his voice remains calm, but now there’s a slight edge to it, as if the question weighs on him more than you realize.

✧ “are you trying to test me?” he asks, tilting his head slightly, his brow furrowing just enough to show he’s genuinely curious. “i hope you know i mean every word i’ve said to you. my feelings are not something i take lightly.”

✧ you’re taken aback, your mind racing as you realize just how much this is affecting him. you weren’t trying to hurt him; you just wanted to see if he truly cared. but now, the weight of your questions hangs heavy in the air.

✧ seeing the uncertainty in your eyes, he lets out a small, almost imperceptible sigh. he reaches out, taking your hand in his, offering you a reassuring smile that radiates warmth.

✧ “there’s no need for doubt,” he says softly, his voice gentle yet firm. “my feelings for you are genuine, and they won’t change based on fleeting insecurities. you are the only one i see, the only one i care for.”

✧ his words carry a weight that resonates deep within you, his sincerity undeniable. you feel a warmth spread through your chest, a sense of relief washing over you.

✧ “i’m sorry,” you say, a little embarrassed by how far you’ve pushed him. “i didn’t mean to make you doubt how much i care.”

✧ luocha chuckles softly, his thumb brushing gently over the back of your hand. “it’s alright,” he says, his voice filled with understanding. “i know you’re just seeking reassurance. but i hope this is enough to put your mind at ease.”

✧ you nod, grateful for his patience and the depth of his affection. his unwavering calmness and the way he handles your doubts only make you feel even more certain that, with him, you never need to worry about someone else coming along.

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[pandapetals]

Sexting

Logan's been gone on a mission for days now. You miss him terribly and one little text spirals into sexting.

logan howlett x fem!reader - inspired by a tiktok i saw, teasing banter, sexting, flirting, established relationship, smut, phone sex, masturbation, orgasms, dirty talk, cocky logan, dominant/possessive logan, pet names used, good girl praising

a/n: horny era entered.

divider credit: @enchanthings

The day had dragged on, each hour stretching longer than the last. Between the endless grind at work, the knot of stress coiling tighter in your chest, and nearly everyone testing the limits of your patience, you felt utterly wrung out. By the time the sun sank below the horizon, all you wanted was to melt into Logan’s arms—strong, steady, and always warm, like they were built to shield you from the rest of the world.

But Logan wasn’t here. He’d been sent off on a mission three days ago with no clear answer to the question that gnawed at you the most: When would he come home? Three days felt like three weeks, and the ache of missing him was a dull, constant hum beneath your skin.

You had done everything you could to fill the space he left behind. His pillow now wore one of his shirts, the fabric soft and faintly infused with his scent. You’d sprayed it with his cologne—too much, honestly, but the sharp, musky notes helped. At night, you’d curl around it, imagining his arms around you instead, but it was never the same. You missed the rough timbre of his voice, the way he’d smirk and toss out some gruff remark that made you laugh. You even missed how his scruff would scrape against your cheek when he kissed you.

Now, you were sprawled across the bed, Logan’s stand-in pillow hugged close as your thumb aimlessly scrolled through your phone. A familiar pang of longing twisted your stomach as you stumbled across a photo of a couple kissing under twinkling lights. You sighed and were about to toss your phone aside when it buzzed in your hand, a new message lighting up the screen.

Logan: I miss you so much, gorgeous.

Your heart clenched, a smile tugging at your lips before you could help it. You quickly typed back:

You: Miss you too, handsome.

Your fingers hovered over the keyboard, the ache of missing him pressing harder than ever. A mischievous thought sparked in your mind, and before you could second-guess yourself, you typed it out.

You: You should send me a photo of your bicep for being gone so long.

The typing bubble appeared almost instantly, and you could practically hear Logan’s low chuckle in your head.

Logan: That so?

Before you could reply, your phone buzzed, and a new image loaded on the screen. The photo made your breath hitch. Logan was sprawled out on what looked like a worn motel bed, his shirt pushed up to his chest, exposing the hard ridges of his abs. But the star of the show was his arm, flexed in a way that showed off every curve of his bicep. The dim lighting cast shadows that deepened the definition of his muscles, and the veins stood out just enough to make your mouth dry.

You swallowed, your face heating as you bit your lip. His usual teasing smirk wasn’t visible in the photo, but you could feel it like it was carved into the very pixels of the screen.

Another message buzzed in.

Logan: Feel better, honey?

You groaned, the grin tugging at your lips both frustrated and helplessly smitten.

You: No. Now I just really want to bite your bicep.

His reply came faster than you expected.

Logan: You’ll have to be patient, sweetheart. But don’t worry, I’ll let you.

Your stomach flipped, heat pooling low in your belly as you stared at his words. God, you could hear his voice so clearly, that deep, teasing rasp that always made your pulse skip.

You: You’re cruel, you know that?

Logan: Cruel would be reminding you how good my hands feel on you. But I won’t do that. Not while I’m stuck in this dump, thinking about what I’d do if I were there instead.

Your breath caught, and your thumb hovered uncertainly over the screen. You could feel the shift in his tone, that familiar heat creeping into his words even through text.

You: What would you do, Logan?

The typing bubble appeared, then disappeared, like he was taking his time to think—or maybe to make you squirm. When his reply finally came, it hit you like a jolt of lightning.

Logan: First, I’d pin you to the bed. Then I’d take my time—slow, deliberate—just to hear you beg. You’d look so good under me, darlin’. I can practically see it.

Your thighs pressed together instinctively, heat rolling through you in waves.

You: You’re not playing fair.

Logan: I never do. 

You couldn’t argue with that. Every word, every teasing reply, every memory of his hands on you was like a match to dry kindling, leaving you aching for him in almost unbearable ways. You leaned back against the pillows, closing your eyes as your fingers hovered over your phone, your imagination already running wild.

Before you could think of a reply, your phone buzzed again.

Logan: I miss your body, but you know what I miss more? The way you look at me after. That soft, sleepy, satisfied look, like I’m the only man in the world who can make you feel that way.

Your heart clenched, warmth blooming in your chest and mingling with the heat already simmering there. God, you wanted him so badly it was a physical ache.

You: You’re going to kill me, Logan.

Logan: Nah, honey. Just keeping you hungry for me. Trust me, I’m starving over here too.

His words wrapped around you like a warm, possessive embrace, filling the void he’d left behind. Though hundreds of miles separated you, for a moment, it almost felt like he was there—his rough hands sliding over your skin, his lips grazing that sensitive spot just beneath your jaw, the weight of his body. The ache of missing him was unbearable, pressing hard and heavy in your chest. You buried your face in his pillow, inhaling the faint remnants of his scent, but it only made the longing sharper.

Your thumb hovered over the screen as you finally typed back, giving in to your own need to feel closer to him:

You: I’ve been sleeping with your pillow... making it wear your shirt.

The reply came almost immediately, his words brimming with that familiar mix of teasing and heat that sent a thrill rushing through you.

Logan: Bet you’ve been doing naughty things to it too.

Your breath caught, your face flushing as you stared at the screen. Damn him. How did he always know? He had an almost supernatural ability to read you, even from miles away. You bit your lip, the memory of those late, lonely nights flashing vividly in your mind—the way you’d pressed his pillow between your thighs, imagining it was him, imagining his weight, his heat, his voice in your ear telling you to let go. You knew when he got home, he’d take one deep inhale and know exactly what you’d done.

Your fingers trembled as you typed back, heart pounding.

You: Maybe I have. What are you gonna do about it?

The three little dots of his reply appeared, then disappeared, then reappeared, drawing out the tension until you wanted to scream. When the message finally popped up, it was pure Logan.

Logan: Oh, sweetheart, you know what I’ll do. First, I’ll ask you to tell me exactly what you did. Then I’d make you show me. And I wouldn’t let you stop until you were begging.

Heat shot through your body, pooling low in your belly as you shifted restlessly on the bed. Your lips parted, a soft breath escaping as your imagination ran wild, conjuring the image of him above you, his rough hands and deep voice taking you apart piece by piece.

You glanced at your phone’s camera, a bold idea sparking in your mind. If Logan wanted to play, you’d show him you could hold your own. Slowly, you sat up, slipping the strap of your tank top down one shoulder. The fabric slid lower, exposing more of your skin, and your pulse raced as you positioned the camera just right. The click of the shutter sounded louder than it should have, your heart hammering as you looked at the result—a sultry shot of your bare shoulder, collarbone, and the faintest hint of cleavage.

You attached the photo to the message and typed, fingers trembling slightly:

You: Think you can handle this when you get home?

The response came almost instantly, and it was clear you’d hit your mark.

Logan: Jesus Christ, darlin’!

A second message followed:

Logan: You trying to kill me?

You smirked, a wave of confidence washing over you as you typed back.

You: Just keeping you on your toes. You’re the one who said you’d pin me down, remember?

His reply was a voice note this time, and when you pressed play, the low, gravelly sound of his voice sent a shiver straight through you.

Logan (voice note): Oh, I remember. And trust me when I get back, you won’t be walking straight for days. You keep teasing me like this, and I’m gonna make sure you pay for every second of it.

Your thighs clenched as you listened to the raw hunger in his tone, heat blooming across your skin. But you weren’t done teasing him yet.

You adjusted your tank top a little lower, this time snapping a photo that showed more—the curve of your chest, the line of your neck, the look in your eyes that you knew would drive him wild. You sent it without a caption, letting the image speak for itself.

The reply came in seconds.

Logan: You better not be touching yourself right now. That’s mine.

A thrill ran through you at the possessiveness in his words.

You: What if I am?

Another voice note came through, this one darker. His voice dropped an octave, sending goosebumps racing down your arms.

Logan (voice note): Don’t you dare finish without me, sweetheart. When I get home, you’re going to come on my fingers, my tongue, and then my—

You couldn’t stop the whimper that slipped out as you hit pause, your whole body burning with need.

You: Logan...

Logan: You started this, gorgeous. Don’t get shy on me now.

You sighed, biting your lip as your fingers tightened around your phone. Heat simmered low in your belly, and your heart raced as you debated your next move. Logan was right—you had started this, and now there was no turning back. Your thumb hovered over the screen for a moment, your nerves threatening to get the better of you, but the longing for him—his touch, his voice, the way he looked at you—overpowered everything else.

With a deep breath, you hit the video call button. The screen flickered for a moment, your reflection briefly staring back at you before the call connected. And then there he was.

Logan appeared on your screen, lying back against the headboard of some cheap motel bed. The light in the room was dim, but it did nothing to dull the sharp angles of his jaw or the piercing heat in his eyes. He had one arm tucked lazily behind his head, the other holding the phone, but there was nothing casual about how he looked at you—like he could devour you through the screen.

A slow, almost predatory smirk curved his lips. “There’s my pretty girl. For a second, I thought you’d chickened out.”

You swallowed hard, the sound of his voice making your pulse race. “You’ve got me all flustered,” you admitted, your voice softer than you intended.

Logan’s chuckle was low and rough like gravel sliding over honey. “Sweetheart, you’re the one teasing me,” he said, his gaze raking over you through the screen. “All I did was tell you what I wanted to do when I get home. But if I’m being honest…” His smirk widened, his tongue sliding briefly over his bottom lip. “I don’t think either one of us can wait that long.”

A shiver ran down your spine at his words. He shifted slightly, and the movement made his shirt pull tight across his chest and shoulders, the fabric doing little to hide the hard lines of muscle underneath. You let out a breath.

“Logan…” you whispered, but it came out more like a plea than you intended.

His voice softened, the teasing giving way to something more intimate. “Yeah, darlin’?”

Your fingers gripped the phone tighter as you adjusted the angle, letting the camera catch the way your tank top clung to your body, how the strap had slipped off one shoulder. His eyes darkened instantly, the air between you thickening even through the distance.

“Show me,” he murmured, his tone low and commanding. “You’ve been driving me crazy all night. Now I want to see you, pretty girl. Let me see what’s mine.”

Your breath hitched, heat flooding your cheeks, but how he was looking at you made it impossible to resist. Slowly, your free hand trailed down your neck and over your collarbone, lingering at the edge of your top. His gaze tracked every movement, his jaw clenching as he exhaled heavily.

“Good girl,” he rasped, his voice like a caress. “Keep going.”

You couldn’t help the small, breathy sound that escaped your lips as you let the fabric slide lower, revealing just enough to leave him wanting more. His hand moved slightly on his end of the screen, and you had a pretty good idea of what he was doing.

“Logan,” you breathed, your voice trembling with nervousness and excitement.

“Don’t stop,” he urged, his tone rougher now, filled with a hunger that sent a rush of heat straight through you. “You’re so fucking beautiful. God, I can’t wait to get my hands on you again.”

Your fingers trembled as you slid your tank top down, the cool air brushing over your bare skin, making your breath hitch. Logan’s eyes burned into you through the screen, the teasing smirk on his lips softening into something darker, more primal. His gaze wasn’t just hungry—it was devouring like he wanted to memorize every inch of you even from miles away.

“Goddamn,” he muttered, his voice a low growl that sent shivers racing down your spine. “You’re perfect. Absolutely perfect.”

Your cheeks flushed, heat blooming under his praise, but it only fueled the fire building inside you. Biting your lip, you whispered, “Show me what you’re doing.”

The words came out so soft you weren’t sure he’d heard you, but then his lips curved into a wicked grin that made your stomach flip. “You sure about that, sweetheart?” he asked, his tone rough and teasing.

You nodded, unable to find your voice, your pulse thundering in your ears.

Logan shifted slightly, the phone shaking just enough to make your anticipation climb. He adjusted the angle, tilting the camera lower until the frame revealed the sharp lines of his abs disappearing beneath the waistband of his sweatpants. Your breath caught as he pulled the fabric down just enough to show you the outline of his arousal, his hand wrapped around himself, moving slowly, deliberately.

“See what you do to me?” he muttered, his voice thick with desire. His hand stroked lazily, his movements unhurried, like he wanted you to feel every second of it. “Every damn time, darlin’. I can’t even think straight when it comes to you.”

Your heart stuttered, your thighs pressing together instinctively as heat pooled low in your belly. The sight of him, the way his body tensed with every stroke, the way his breath hitched as he watched you—it was almost too much.

“Logan…” you breathed, your voice trembling with need.

“Keep going,” he rasped, his eyes flickering back up to meet yours. They were dark and intense, filled with raw hunger. “I want to see all of you, gorgeous. Don’t hold back on me now.” 

Your free hand drifted down your body with deliberate slowness, tracing the curves of your waist and the soft plane of your stomach, until your fingertips brushed the waistband of your underwear. The fabric felt impossibly delicate under your touch, and your breath hitched as you let your fingers linger there, teasing both yourself and him.

Logan’s eyes burned through the screen, dark and hungry, following every movement of your hand. His jaw tightened, and you saw the flex of his arm as his strokes grew just a bit faster, his breath hitching in rhythm. The tension between you was unbearable, a crackling heat that made the distance between you feel almost cruel.

“Don’t stop,” Logan rasped, his voice rough and uneven. “I need to see you. All of you.”

The raw need in his voice sent a shiver racing through you, your pulse pounding as you slowly tilted the phone. The angle shifted, and the screen filled with the sight of your bare skin, the way your hand dipped beneath the fabric of your underwear, teasing at the heat there. A soft, breathless sound slipped from your lips as your fingers began to move, exploring yourself with slow, deliberate strokes.

Logan groaned a low, guttural sound that sent a wave of heat washing over you. “Fuck, darlin’,” he muttered, his voice thick with need. His phone shifted slightly, and your eyes flicked to the screen to see his hand moving more urgently now, his chest rising and falling in uneven breaths. “You’re so goddamn beautiful. Look at you… so wet for me.”

The heat of his words made your thighs tremble as your body arched instinctively, your hand moving in sync with the rising tension in his voice. The soft, wet sounds of your fingers moving against your slick heat filled the air between you, and you bit your lip, trying—and failing—to muffle the needy whimper that escaped.

“That’s it, good girl,” Logan growled, his tone both commanding and reverent. “Don’t hold back. I want to hear you. I want to see what I do to you.”

Your phone slipped slightly in your trembling hand, but you steadied it, angling it just enough to give him the view he craved. His reaction was instant—a sharp intake of breath, followed by a string of curses muttered under his breath.

“You’re gonna kill me,” he groaned, his hand faltering for a moment as he dragged his free hand through his hair, his head falling back against the headboard. “I can’t fucking wait to get my hands on you.

Your breath hitched, and you couldn’t stop the soft whimper that escaped your lips. “What would you do, Logan?” you asked in a shaky whisper.

His eyes darkened further, his expression turning almost feral. “I’d start by kissing you everywhere,” he growled. “Slow, soft, until you’re trembling for me. Then I’d pin your wrists above your head, hold you still so you’d have to feel every second of it while screaming my name.”

Your head fell back against the pillows as his words washed over you, the heat in his voice lighting up every nerve in your body.

“Keep touching yourself, sweetheart,” he urged, his tone both commanding and coaxing. “Such a good girl for me.”

His words pushed you closer to the edge, the ache in your body growing unbearable as your fingers moved faster, your breaths coming in soft, uneven gasps. “Logan,” you whimpered, his name a broken plea on your lips.

“Come for me,” he demanded, his voice low and rough like he could feel your tension through the screen. “I want to see it. I want to watch you fall apart for me.”

“You’re killing me,” you managed to whisper, your voice barely audible over the pounding of your heart.

His lips curved into a crooked, breathless smile. “You started it, gorgeous,” he said, his voice rough and uneven now. “And when I get home, I’m gonna finish it. Properly.”

The promise in his tone sent a fresh wave of heat through you, your body aching for him in ways that words couldn’t begin to describe. But for now, this was all you had—his voice, his eyes on you, the sound of his breath growing heavier as the two of you shared this moment across the distance.

“Logan…” you whimpered again, your body arching as you felt yourself reaching the edge.

“Let go for me. Good girl,” he murmured, his voice softening but losing none of its intensity. “Show me how good I make you feel.”

The heat in his tone, the intensity of his gaze, the way his hand was moving on himself—it all pushed you over the edge. Your body tensed, a sharp gasp slipping from your lips as the wave of release crashed over you, your hand faltering as you rode it out. Logan groaned deeply, his own release following seconds after, his head falling back as his chest heaved.

For a few moments, the two of you were silent, your breaths filling the space between you. Logan was the first to speak, his voice softer now, tinged with satisfaction and lingering desire. “Goddammit,” he muttered, his voice husky and low. “You’re gonna be the death of me, darlin’.”

You laughed breathlessly, your body still buzzing, your heart full. “I could say the same about you, handsome,” you teased, though your voice was still shaky.

He shook his head, his eyes softening as they locked onto yours through the screen. “You better be ready,” he said, his tone playful but underlined with a seriousness that made your stomach flip. “Because when I get back, I’m not letting you out of my sight—or my bed—for a very, very long time.”

“Promise?” you asked, your lips curving into a lazy, satisfied smile.

Logan’s grin turned wicked, his eyes gleaming. “Oh, it’s not a promise. It’s a guarantee.”

[moltenapian]

> assuming the dom is a man

> assuming the dom is doing it because they like to see the sub suffer instead of doing it purely as an exercise in making their sub feel good in the ways that best work for them

Like fr

Not to get too personal on main but I've been pretty seriously SAd fairly continuously over a period of about five years of my life. Without going into details, it's led to pretty serious drives to self-harm. More beneath the cutoff of you want to read, I guess. It's late so I'm going to be very personal.

Drives that have been rewarded by society at large, in fact. Exercising 25 hours a week on less than 1800 calories a day, while it absolutely ruined my body in the long, made me one of the best rowers in my state in the short term. Nobody pulled me aside and told me that it was unhealthy, that I'd hurt myself, that in four years I'd hardly be able to function and certainly not in any high level athletics. No, they just cared I was faster at racing boats than the others.

I sought self harm in a lot of ways, none of which were controlled. Staying up far too late and working much longer hours than I should have. Not eating anywhere near enough in order to maintain my thin figure. All of it, rewarded and encouraged.

Only after some very severe health scares and deep reexamination of my situation did I really truly identify these drives and how they affected me in such an unhealthy manner. I can't get rid of them. After five years of consistent sexual trauma (and otherwise but we don't need to worry about that) those things are rooted too deep to excise.

But now that I'm in a healthy relationship with a partner who is accepting and understanding of my hangups, trauma triggers, and the things which I need to be able to function in a relationship, I've been able to deal with these impulses in a healthy way.

Better to handle that stuff in a scene where absolutely everything is agreed upon by both parties beforehand, safewords are strictly enforced, and nothing gets pushed too too far. Just enough to stop the part of my brain that wants me to hurt to be satiated for a while. My instincts for self harm are almost entirely abated with occasional "rough" sex and bitter drinks (ngl in my experience a very good way to alleviate those feelings).

Anyways, these days I've been sleeping enough, eating enough, and the healthiest and happiest I've ever been in my life. A productive environment to be able to work out those feelings is really invaluable, and I'm glad to have it.

All this goes to say... it sounds like OP either hasn't practiced safe BDSM (which is a very real risk, don't get me wrong) or is simply judging something based on an emotional/moral reaction. Anyways the criticisms really don't hold up, and tbh in 98% of cases competitive sports teams rely on the same dynamics and are wayyyy more unhealthy. I could write a whole essay on this but now is not the time.

This post is stupid as hell and I'm certainly sorry I (and you all) had to see it

not me printing and framing this shit

[swappermanent]

Freckles (Part 3 - Grandpa's POV)

Life has changed a lot for me in the past nine months. You don’t realize just how much you miss about being young until you’ve got it back. I thought I had a good handle on things, swapping into Dylan every summer like clockwork. A week here, a week there—it was enough to scratch the itch, to remind me of what it felt like to have a strong back, quick reflexes, and boundless energy. But let me tell you, living in a young body for this long? It’s different. Night and day.

Kai—no, Theo now—was right. I’ll admit it. I was reluctant when he first said it to me, standing there in that smug stance of his, shirtless as always, grinning like he had the world figured out. “You clearly get a kick out of being in Dylan’s body,” he said, his tone dripping with knowing amusement. And damn if he didn’t have a point.

I hesitated back then, but looking at me now? I owe Theo a massive thank-you. Staying in Dylan’s body for longer than a week was one of the best decisions I’ve ever made. For one thing, there’s a kind of freedom that comes with being young and I’ve been taking full advantage of it.

I live in Berlin now. Thanks to my little caveat—"Feel free to alter your body in any way you see fit during the year"—it was totally in bounds to do something like this. A new life, a fresh start. Berlin seemed like the obvious choice. The city practically begs you to reinvent yourself, to explore every side of who you are, no matter how deeply it’s been buried.

The real Dylan wasn’t thrilled about the move, but what could he do? We all already had Irish passports anyway, so it wasn’t like there were any logistical hurdles. He’ll get over it, I’m sure. Honestly, though, I think he’s secretly jealous.

Besides, this is the perfect place to explore my sexuality. Everyone here is so open—no judgment, no shame. I’ve had sex in all the clubs, even in the middle of Tempelhof Feld. Men, women—it doesn’t matter. And let me tell you, everyone wants my hog and body, which is in peak form.

But the best night I’ve had was one where I wasn’t taking the active role in the encounter.. I’d been getting into leather lately, exploring the scene and one night, I found myself at a warehouse party. Dim red lights, pounding music, the smell of sweat and leather mingling in the air. I was dressed for the occasion—harness, boots, nothing else.

That’s where I met them. A Swedish guy, tall and broad-shouldered, with blond hair and piercing eyes that pinned me in place. And a Bulgarian guy, muscular, his dark eyes smoldering with a confidence that left no room for argument. They didn’t ask; they just knew I would take it.

And I did.

They worked together like a symphony, positioning me between them with practiced ease. The Bulgarian was the first to push inside, his cock thick and unrelenting. I gasped, clutching at his shoulders as he filled me, stretching me in a way that felt like too much and just enough all at once. And then, the Swedish guy. His cock pressed against me, slick and insistent, until he slid in beside the first, my body opening up to take them both.

I’d never felt anything like it—the fullness, the weight of them moving in tandem, their rhythm so perfectly in sync it felt orchestrated. One of them reached around to stroke my cock, his grip firm and knowing, while the other’s hand moved to my chest, teasing my nipples until I was trembling. The pleasure was overwhelming, building in waves that crashed over me again and again, each one higher than the last.

When I finally came, it was like the entire world blurred out of existence. My cock pulsed in the Swedish guy’s hand, the orgasm tearing through me with a force that left me breathless. My legs nearly gave out, but they held me steady, their movements never faltering as they milked every last drop of pleasure from my body. By the time they finished, I was spent, my skin slick with sweat, my heart pounding like I’d run a marathon.

That night changed something in me. It wasn’t just the sex—it was the surrender, the freedom of letting go completely. Afterward, they helped me clean up, their touches surprisingly gentle, and we shared drinks at the bar, laughing and swapping stories like old friends.

And now? Well I think I’m officially a Berliner.

[spoiledprincessbratspostsblog]

needing

Rafe Cameron x Maybank!Reader

Warnings: English isn't my first language so I apologize for any and all mistakes. All GIF credits to the owner. Heavy implications of smut but no actual smut. Kind of Toxic!Rafe but idk??This is lowkey rushed but I needed it to get out there lol.

ʚɞ˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ʚɞ˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ʚɞ˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ʚɞ˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ʚɞ˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ʚɞ˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ʚɞ˚

Being JJ’s sister already meant people had a bad perception of you, but your attitude did not help the rumors anyway. You weren’t known for being nice to everyone, and that was fine because it scared the weirdos away most of the time.

You’ve always seemed strong and independent. Insults usually rolled right off you, and situations didn’t seem to bother you. Being hard-headed and having an attitude all the time was a good cover. But it was all a front. At home, your dad would constantly abuse alcohol, and you and JJ often bore the brunt of his rage. When JJ started sleeping at John B’s house and only saw you once a week, you ended up taking most of the hits.

You were friends with the Pogues, but not as close as JJ was, so you didn’t feel comfortable staying at John B’s house.

You met Rafe almost a year ago at a party. It was meant to be an emotionless hook-up and nothing more. But over time, what started as frequent, meaningless sex evolved into a friends-with-benefits situation. You two began spending a lot of time together, both with and without there being sex involved. He started taking you out to places and even to parties with his friends and others around.

But he wasn’t your boyfriend. And every time you attempted to bring it up he'd claimed he “couldn’t be the man you needed.” Despite that, as you grew closer, he eventually learned about your home life. Rafe wasn’t stupid—he knew Pogues had it hard—but he hadn’t realized how much your situation affected you. How you were really a sweet and caring person who had just been hurt by your situation. Once he did learn, he started spending more time with you at his house, claiming, “Look, I know this is just sex, but come on, I can’t have you around that bullshit, ‘kay?”

You didn’t complain—free days at Tannyhill with him were a welcome escape!

Everything was fine until Rafe started treating you like an actual girlfriend. You wanted to be his, but was he really capable? Anyway, it wasn’t what he wanted—he’d made that very clear—so it didn’t matter.

Then, you two got into a bad argument last week. You’d started feeling very dependent on Rafe, and you hated it. So you began to pull back, which only made him care more. One comment led to another, and…

“Rafe, stop. If you’re not my boyfriend, stop acting like you care about me like one.”

“My god! You don’t want me to care about you just ‘cause I don’t wanna be your boyfriend? S’pathetic.”

“Fuck you!” you yelled before storming out.

You hadn’t seen or talked to him since. He was pissed but still wanted to fix things; he just didn’t know how.

That’s when you called.

Your dad had come home drunk, yelling and throwing things. You could no longer bear it. So you called Rafe.

“Hey, I’ll be at yours in like half an hour,” you told him, not waiting for a response.

When you arrived, Wheezie let you in. (She already knew the procedure and wouldn’t snitch,) but she stopped you.

“Hey, you okay? You don’t look okay,” she asked.

You put on your best smile. “Yeah! M’fine! Rafe’s here, right?” She nodded and let you pass.

When you reached Rafe’s room, he was sitting on his bed. His eyes instantly met yours. You climbed onto the bed, inching towards him, and eventually straddled him without saying a word while he stared at you.

“Hi,” you whispered before kissing him.

Rafe, being a man with needs, initially kissed you back. But after sensing something was wrong, he pulled back.

“Nah, nah, you were just over here yelling at me. I’m not mad, okay, but you’re not okay,” he said, concern in his voice.

You frowned as tears welled up in your eyes. “Rafe, m’fine. I’m sorry. You’re forgiven. Please just kiss me. Come on, I just need to forget.”

He kissed you again but stopped when he felt you begin to cry lightly, your breath hitching out of sadness.

“Nah, baby, come on,” he said, pulling you into a hug and holding you tight.

You couldn’t cry in front of him. You couldn’t be so attached to him. It freaked you out, and you tried to push him off.

“Rafe, stop!” you cried, but his grip only tightened.

“What is it? Is it me?” he asked softly, stroking your hair to calm you down. “Your parents?” he whispered.

Finally, you broke down, crying into his chest and wetting his shirt with your tears. Although you had previously confided in him, it had never been like this. He whispered a series of “M’sorrys” as he stroked your hair.

When you finally calmed down, you pulled back and got off him, heading to his mirror to clean yourself up. He stared at you with concern.

“Shit, sorry. Okay, well, m’gonna go now,” you said quickly.

He immediately got up and walked over, towering over you. “The fuck you are. You haven’t told me what’s wrong or why you tried to forget by fucking me.”

“I just needed to forget, okay? No point crying over something I can’t change.”

“Something you can’t change?”

“What?”

“What is the something you can’t change?”

“The situation with my dad and your feelings toward me,” you calmly explained.

“Now, why’d you think fucking was gonna make everything better, huh?” he scolded, switching the topic.

You looked away. “Thought that’s what you wanted.”

“What?”

“I thought you’d no longer be mad at me or wouldn’t care if I was crying if you got to fuck,” you said lightly.

He scoffed in disbelief. “You think that’s the kind of person I am? Baby, I care so much more for you than I’ll ever let on, okay? And this isn’t just sex. You are so much more to me as a person. It’s important to me that you know that, ‘kay?”

You nodded, still waiting for him to respond to your earlier comment.

His face softened. “Look, I wanna be your boyfriend, ‘kay? More than anything, fuck, believe me. But I can’t be the man you deserve. You deserve so much better.”

You scoffed lightly. “But I want you.”

He sighed. “Let me better myself. Then I promise.” He leaned in and kissed your forehead softly. “Stay here tonight, yeah?”

You nodded.

Later that night, as you drifted off to sleep, he kissed your arms, shoulders, and face with gentle affection. “I love you,” he whispered before the both of you fell asleep.

[burymagdalene]

Rocket Fuel - S. Reid x Reader

After a week apart, Spencer and reader have a day tucked away from society together. Resulting in stolen coffee, Spencer tries to make it up to you with his own trial of coffee making. pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!reader genre: Good old fashioned fluff tags: established relationship, sharing (stealing) coffee, season 6 Spencer, lots of kisses– PURITAN REALLY wc: 2.3k a/n:  Based on my little headcanon here, I expanded my idea a bit for you guys! Kisses, I hope you enjoy!

You hadn’t seen Spencer in a painfully long time. With a quick departure from work to Louisiana, it had been a week since you’d last seen him. Of course, you have gone longer, but something about this case dragged out how eternal it felt, each day becoming more drawn out like the beginning of the summer solstice. That being said, your copious hours apart have finally ended as Spencer calls you once you’re off work.

“Baby, I just landed. Are you busy? Can I see you?” He quickly rushes out, combining all the words into one jumbled, excited mess. You can hear the chatter in the background and the wind blowing as he’s stepping off the plane.

Resting your phone on your shoulder as you wiggle your key into your apartment, you smile at his voice. “Hi. Yeah, I’m just getting home from work. I can get pretty and we can go out?” You shut the door behind you. 

“Hmm. Can I just come over and stay with you? After this week I kind of feel like seeing you and nobody else again.” Spencer’s voice tapers off to a whisper at the end, not wanting to risk the BAU hearing and getting offended. Which they heard anyway, earning him a soft slap upside the head. 

“If you won’t feel stir crazy, yeah I’d love that. You can help me with a new braid I want to try, I’ve been practicing and it’s killing me…” Spencer is very much used to these calls of help. When you wanted to learn how to do a french braid, you made him watch a video and come over to do it himself since he retains what you’re supposed to do so easily. 

“Perfect. Do you want me to pick you up? Coffee? Are you tired?” Not being able to hold it back, you chuckle a bit. Spencer’s frantically trying to supply you with anything he might’ve missed while he was gone. He’s always like this, desperate to bring you little treats after a case, like a crow leaving shiny gifts on the doorstep of those who feed them. 

“I’d love a coffee Spence. I have this incurable sweet tooth I’ve adapted since you’ve been gone,” you tease while letting out a dramatic sigh “not enough sweetness in my life.” Spencer whines out a sorry on the other side of the line and asks what you want. 

“Okay, a raspberry mocha with an extra shot for the beautiful girlfriend. Sounds… interesting.” Spencer replies and after quick goodbyes he slides into his car to drop off his luggage at his apartment, feed his fish (that you had won during a carnival date and gave to him) and is off walking to get you your artificially flavored coffee that will make your dentist cry. 

Spencer loiters around the aggressively hipster coffee shop you frequent because of its good prices (uncommon in D.C.) waiting for your drink while smiling softly at himself at the idea of smelling you again, shoving his head in the nape of your neck while embracing you, touching your hair, being in your apartment surrounded by your things.

He’s at a point of hazy daydreaming where he doesn’t hear the “mocha for Spencer!” shouted by the barista until minutes later when they make eye contact and he sheepishly realizes he needs to get himself in gear.

Taking your drink he texts you letting you know he’s on the way and starts heading towards your apartment. The past week Spencer has been crammed inside offices, cars, the plane, so walking over and stretching his legs is making him bright eyed and bushy tailed.

Just bright eyed enough that the chocolate-y sweet aroma wafting from your coffee peaks his interest. Spencer brings it closer for a better sniff and makes a little “hm, not so bad” sound. Spencer and you share a similar taste in sweet coffee, though Spencer usually goes for a mountain of sugar added, not really any of the different kinds of flavoring you typically order. He takes a curious sip.

Before he knows it Spencer is on sip number two and is offhandedly thinking about the rise of modernist architecture as he walks past the corporate apartments downtown, devoid of individualism and expression. In fact, he thinks, 420,000 apartment buildings were built in America this year, a world record. With how quickly apartments are popping up, 200,000-300,000 are being destroyed because of the cheaper and less expensive materials that are being implemented currently- 

The cup feels significantly lighter than it did when Spencer first bought it. He gives it a few swishes to gauge his damage and winces a bit. That’s okay! You’re the most understanding and sweet person he knows. He doubts you’ll bat an eye that he stole some sips. Sharing is caring after all. 

The neighborhood finally starts to become more homely and familiar as he makes his way towards your complex. He’s already consumed his fair share of airplane and office coffee today, now with your sugary double shot, Spencer is bouncing with every step knowing he’s about to see you momentarily.

Spencer understands the energizer bunny to his full extent right now. Bounding up your front steps and knocking to the tune of “doot doola doot doo” and reflecting on a memory of an energizer bunny commercial he had seen as a kid. He was terrified of it.  

And right before his eyes his angel finally appears. 

You swing the door open and hug him tightly in the doorway, immediately shoving your face in the crook of his neck, inhaling deeply. The laundry detergent on his clothes was not holding up while he was gone to how he actually smells in person. 

“Hi, my baby,” Spencer mutters into the top of your head. He pulls you back gently by the back of your neck so he can get a good look at your face. “I missed this face so much.” He giggles, he can’t believe how badly he’s been longing for you this week. Pulling Spencer to your living room, you’re still embraced in a hug.

“You don’t even understand. I’m coming jammed in your suitcase next time you have to leave.” You smile back at him, softly running your thumb along his jaw. Spencer blushes sweetly and breaks eye contact.

“Anddd your rocket fuel.” In his bliss he’s forgotten all prior sips of your coffee and hands you the drink. 

You take his offering, smile dropping when you’re holding it yourself. “What the hell?”

Spencer remembers immediately. “I was checking for poison.”

“What the hell?”

“You know, so that if there was poison I’d be the one-”

“This is almost gone?” You can’t help but laugh a little bit at the absurdity.

Spencer pulls his best guilty face. “I’m so sorry. It smelled so good so I had to try it, you know scent accounts for around 75 to 95 percent of the impact a flavor can have. So, I could’ve been doing an experiment to attest to how it tastes in regards to how it was smelling. But I wasn’t actually, I just got carried away. Did you know that if you tried plugging your nose while eating a potato and an onion that without smelling them, they would taste essentially the same? We have to try that some time.” He’s nervously rambling.

You laugh and hand him back the cup. “It’s all yours, Spence.” You turn and walk into your kitchen, knowing he’s going to be following at your tail. 

“I am sorry. Are you sure?” Spencer scratches the back of his neck nervously. Though he stops feeling bad once you turn around and lean against your kitchen counter with a grin. 

“Yes, I’m sure. However, you’re about to sift through my kitchen and whip me up the most delicious coffee that my cabinets have to offer. Okay?”

Spencer nods with a bashful smile, sipping the coffee again. “Okay. Truce?”

“Hmm. Not so fast, it’ll be a truce if and when the coffee you make knocks my socks off.” You tease. 

Spencer kisses your shoulder and gives another kiss under your ear like this second chance has a life changing outcome. A queen giving her jester another chance at entertainment before his beheading.

Conversation flows sweetly as you stand together in your kitchen. You have new flowers on a small table that he comments the origins on. “Why am I jealous that you got yourself flowers and I didn’t?” Spencer half jokes as he rummages through your options of crappy instant coffee.

“Hmm. But you did go out of your way to buy me that coffee I wanted… oh wait.” You poke back at him lightly. Spencer sighs good naturedly and asks you to turn around. 

“I want the drink to be a surprise, don’t look at what I’m pulling out.”

Turning around, you roll your eyes. “Yes, chef.”

Spencer starts concocting his masterpiece and puts away the ingredients after they’re combined. He turns around, moving your hair to the side, away from your neck and places a kiss on the back of your neck. He hums against your skin and places another kiss. “Okay, you can look again.”

You spin on your heels and wrap your arms around his waist, against his back, chin resting on one of his shoulders as you watch him stir together a warm and milky mix of God knows what. You’re a little bit scared.

Pouring the mixture into the mug he gave you on your last birthday with your first name initial across the front, Spencer hands it to you with a ginormous, proud smile. 

Pulling it up to your nose you give it a sniff to see what you’re about to get yourself into, though you guess this could be an onion and potato scenario, or whatever Spencer was saying to save his ass. You take a sip.

It’s not very good. You can taste each ingredient separately and together simultaneously. Way too milky that it drowns out the already weak coffee grounds you have. Spencer definitely makes coffee in a unique way, you’ve tried it once or twice. 

“Mmm, this is so good, baby. Perfect.” You smile against the rim of the cup anyway. 

“Really?” Spencer grins, taking a sip of your coffee again, one that you’re mourning more than ever now.

“Yeah! Thank you!” You lean over and kiss the side of his mouth. Spencer shifts to the side to catch you in a proper kiss. He overzealously pulls you in closer, hands cupping your cheeks, the coffee he made you spills a bit with his movement. 

“Mm- babe,” you pull away to wipe the rim of your cup with a napkin. Spencer just hums in response, that he is not sorry for.

“Let me try?” Spencer asks sweetly after watching you take another sip, curious to know what he did to make it taste so good.

“Uhh, yeah. Sure.” You give a tight-lipped smile, your facade slowly breaking.

Taking the cup from you, Spencer takes another one of his greedy sips. He gulps it quickly, offendedly, and looks at you with a crazed expression. You burst out laughing. 

“What?” You choke out through giggles. 

“This is awful.” Spencer deadpans. 

“Nooo, it's good!” You remedy. You don’t really care how it tastes, it’s just nice to be drinking something he’s made you after all this time. You don’t even care anymore he has your sweet drink either, he deserves it. Sweet thing.

Spencer starts laughing along with you, pulling you in by your wrist and peppering your face with kisses as you try to boost his confidence. “Seriously. I couldn’t have made it better myself.”

“You couldn’t possibly have made this yourself. That’s just awful. I was confident too.” He shakes his head with a smile. Spencer pours out half of what he made you and lifts the top of the remainder of what you actually wanted, and pours it in. He mixes it with his finger, pops it in his mouth to taste. No poison. And hands it to you.

The mixture was pleasant actually, a lot of the flavoring from the coffee shop fell to the bottom, so it made his milky coffee flavorful. You hum in genuine pleasure this time. 

“I can’t believe you tried to lie to me about that coffee. You never have to grin and bear anything for my sake.” Spencer responds seriously as he watches you drink his combination.

You can’t help but feel like when a parent turns a funny story into a life lesson, but you suppose he’s right.

“You looked so proud! I didn’t want you to feel disappointed. I don’t really care about you drinking my coffee. I just care that you’re here.”

Spencer laughs and rolls up his sleeves as he talks, “I swear tomorrow your socks will officially be knocked off with the delectable coffee you’re about to receive.” He picks back up a joking tone.

“Oh I bet.” You kiss his cheek.

The rest of your evening together was full of caffeinated updates either of you may have missed in the past week, Spencer filling you in on a prank he was particularly proud of devising against Derek.

Spencer held up his end of the bargain as well. You woke up from the first good rest you’ve had all week since Spencer left to a raspberry mocha by your bedside table. You hadn’t even heard him leave. 

You skip into your living room to find an empty cup of the same coffee Spencer picked up for himself this time to find him hunched over your coffee table fixing a bouquet of flowers into a vase. 

He looks up at you and walks over, giving you a warm hug, slipping an arm up the back of your hoodie and traces your skin. “I was supposed to wake you up, angel.” He mumbles into your shoulder. 

Pulling away, you walk over to inspect the new vase of flowers he got you. You put your hands on your hips and smile over at where he’s standing. 

“Yeah,” you nod. “Truce.” 

[mattsobvimyfav]

neighbors (matthew sturniolo)

pt 8

The SUV rumbled to a stop in the driveway, the hum of the engine fading as Matt cut the ignition. The air felt heavier in Los Angeles, like the weight of reality had returned to settle back on all of our shoulders.

Nick, Chris, and Matt jumped out first, each grabbing suitcases from the trunk. Charlie and I stepped out slowly, our legs stiff from the long drive. The laughter and lightness of the trip lingered faintly, but the tension of everything unresolved had crept back in with the familiar surroundings.

“Alright, ladies, welcome back to reality,” Nick joked, setting Charlie’s suitcase by the front door.

Charlie grinned, rolling her eyes. “Reality isn’t so bad.” She turned to Chris, wrapping her arms around his neck as he pulled her in for a lingering hug. His forehead rested against hers for a moment before he kissed her softly.

Nick came over next, grinning as he hugged both of us. “Don’t miss me too much, okay? Group dinner soon.”

“You live next door, if I miss you I'll just come over,” Charlie said, nudging him playfully.

When it was Matt’s turn, everything slowed down. He hesitated for a moment, his eyes searching mine before he finally stepped forward. Without a word, his arms wrapped around me, pulling me close in a hug that was almost crushing. His hands gripped the fabric of my shirt like he was afraid to let go, and my cheek pressed against his chest, hearing the steady beat of his heart.

I closed my eyes, letting myself sink into the embrace for just a second longer than I probably should have. My hands rested lightly on his back, and I could feel the tension in his body, the unspoken words hanging heavy in the space between us.

“Take care of yourself,” he murmured softly, kissing my forehead.

“You too,” I replied, my voice muffled against his chest.

When he finally pulled back, his eyes lingered on mine for a moment before he turned away, walking toward the car with Nick and Chris. I stayed rooted in place, watching as they drove into their driveway the weight of his embrace still lingering like a phantom touch.

Charlie nudged me gently. “You okay?”

I nodded, though my throat felt tight. “Yeah. Let’s go inside.”

As we carried the last of our things in and closed the door behind us, I couldn’t help but feel like something had shifted, but whether it was for the better or worse, I wasn’t sure.

The soft hum of my laptop filled the empty living room as I sat cross-legged on the couch, editing the vlog from our trip. The familiar sound of laughter and waves crashing in the footage felt distant now, almost like a different lifetime.

It had been a week since we got back, and the house felt quieter than ever. Charlie had been spending her nights at the triplets’ place with Chris, leaving me to fend off the creeping loneliness.

The knock on the door was sharp and sudden, making me jump. I froze for a moment, my fingers hovering over the keyboard.

“Y/N, it’s Leo. Open the fucking door!”

My breath hitched, my body instinctively stumbling back a step. My heart raced as I stared at the door, his muffled voice sending a chill down my spine.

Without thinking, I grabbed my phone from the couch, my hands shaking as I scrolled to Charlie’s contact. I hit the call button and pressed the phone to my ear, my gaze fixed on the door like it might burst open at any moment.

“Come on, Charlie, pick up,” I whispered, my voice barely audible over the sound of my own heartbeat.

The phone rang once, then twice. Just as I was about to hang up and try someone else, Matt’s voice came through.

“Hello?”

The sound of him made the lump in my throat swell. “Matt,” I choked, my voice cracking. “Leo’s here. He’s at my door, yelling. I—I don’t know what to do.”

There was a beat of silence, then the call disconnected without a word.

I stood there frozen, staring at the screen. Did he hang up? My heart pounded as I peeked out the window.

Not even two minutes later, I saw them—Matt and Chris walking down the sidewalk, their faces set in a grim determination. Relief and fear tangled in my chest as I backed away from the window.

The pounding on the door intensified, and Leo’s voice grew louder. “Y/N, don’t make me do this! Open the fucking door!”

Before I could even think, the door swung open, and there was Matt, shoving Leo back with a firm hand. Chris followed close behind, his posture tense as he positioned himself slightly to the side, ready to intervene if needed.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” Matt growled, his voice low and threatening.

Leo took a step forward, his face twisted in anger. “This has nothing to do with you. I’m here to talk to Y/N.”

Matt’s laugh was humorless. “Yelling and banging on her door like a psycho? That’s how you ‘talk’ to her? You need to leave. Now.”

Leo’s gaze darted to me, standing frozen a few feet back. “She’s mine,” he spat, pointing in my direction. “She knows it, and you all need to stay the hell out of it.”

Tears stinging my eyes as I shook my head. “Leo, we’re done. You wanted a break—”

“A break isn’t a breakup!” Leo shouted, his voice shaking with rage.

Matt stepped forward, his jaw tightening as he blocked Leo’s line of sight to me. “She said it’s over. You don’t get to decide for her.”

Leo’s nostrils flared. “And what about you, huh? You think you can just swoop in and fix everything? You don’t even deserve to be in her life after what you did.”

Matt’s shoulders stiffened, his fists clenching at his sides. “Maybe I don’t. But I’d rather spend the rest of my life making up for my mistakes than treat her like some possession you can just control.”

The tension in the air snapped like a rubber band. Leo shoved Matt hard, and Matt stumbled back a step before retaliating with a hard shove of his own.

Chris stepped forward, his hands raised. “Alright, that’s enough—”

But it wasn’t. Leo swung first, his fist connecting with Matt’s jaw. The sound was sickening, and I gasped, my hands flying to my mouth.

Matt barely flinched. His eyes burned with fury as he swung back, his punch landing squarely against Leo’s cheek. The force sent Leo stumbling back into the porch railing, but he recovered quickly, lunging at Matt again.

The moment Leo lunged at Matt again, my instinct took over, and I stepped forward, desperate to stop it.

“Stop it!” I cried, placing myself between the two of them.

Before I could say more, Leo’s arm swung wide in his anger, and his fist connected squarely with my jaw. The impact sent me stumbling back, my vision flashing white as pain radiated through my jaw.

“Oh my God, Y/N!” Chris yelled, rushing toward me.

Leo’s face paled instantly, his hands flying up as if to apologize. “Y/N, I didn’t—”

He didn’t get the chance to finish. Matt’s face contorted into pure rage, his entire body trembling with fury. “You hit her?” he hissed, his voice low and dangerous.

Matt lunged, grabbing Leo by the collar and throwing him to the ground. Before anyone could react, Matt started swinging. His fist collided with Leo’s face over and over again, the sickening thuds echoing through the night.

“Matt! Stop!” I screamed, clutching my throbbing face.

Chris jumped into action, grabbing Matt by the shoulders and trying to pull him back, but Matt was relentless. His fists continued to rain down on Leo, who laid defenseless on the porch, groaning in pain.

“Matt, that’s enough! You’re gonna kill him!” Chris yelled, finally yanking him back with all his strength.

Matt stumbled to his feet, his chest heaving and his hands trembling, bloodied from the fight. He turned to me, his eyes wide with a mixture of rage and concern. “Are you okay? Where does it hurt, sweetheart?”

I nodded shakily, my hand pressing against my aching jaw. Tears blurred my vision as I stared at the scene before me: Leo lying bruised and bleeding out on the ground, Matt trembling with fury, and Chris trying to keep the situation from spiraling further out of control.

Leo groaned, rolling onto his side, and tried to sit up. “Y/N, I—”

“Don’t,” Matt spat, stepping forward again. Chris quickly put a hand on his chest, stopping him.

“You’ve done enough,” Chris said firmly to Leo. “Get out of here before I call the cops.”

Leo’s gaze darted to me, but I couldn’t bring myself to look at him. He staggered to his feet, wiping blood from his mouth, and limped away without another word.

The moment he was gone, Matt turned back to me, his hands hovering near my face but not quite touching. “Y/N, I’m so sorry,” he whispered, his voice trembling.

Chris ran over to his house, running inside to grab Charlie knowing that’s all Y/N wanted. Minutes later Charlie comes sprinting full force out of the front door and across the lawn to reach me, not even waiting for Chris as he runs after her.

Matt’s arms were steady as he scooped me up, cradling me against his chest, and I instinctively buried my face into his shirt, feeling the heat of his skin under the cool fabric. My heart was still racing, but his touch grounded me. He didn’t say anything, just carried me inside with a protective gentleness that made the tears begin to flow.

As he sat down on the couch, he adjusted me so that I was sitting on his lap, holding me close to him as if he would never let go. His hands rubbed up and down my arms, trying to calm me down. The sound of Charlie’s hurried footsteps were heard across the porch before she burst into the living room, eyes wide with concern.

“Oh my God, Y/N!” she gasped, rushing over to me. Without hesitation, she grabbed an ice pack from the fridge and sat beside me, gently pressing it to my swollen face. Her hand brushed the back of my head, and she pulled me closer to her, her voice shaky as she whispered, “I’m so sorry. This is all my fault.”

I shook my head, my tears falling harder now, mixing with the ice cold on my face. “No, it’s not,” I sobbed, “It’s just… so embarrassing. I can’t believe this is happening.”

Matt’s hands tightened around me as he placed his head gently on my shoulder. “You don’t have to explain, Y/N. You don’t owe anyone anything,” he murmured, his voice low and soothing. “We’re here for you. I’m here for you.”

Charlie held me close, her fingers combing through my hair as I leaned against her. “It’s not embarrassing,” she said, her voice soft but firm. “You didn’t do anything wrong, okay?”

But I couldn’t stop the tears. The weight of the situation felt too much to bear, the embarrassment of it all crushing me. The fight with Leo, Matt’s bloody fists, my bruised face—it felt like it was all too much. “Why did this have to happen? Why couldn’t I just have one peaceful night?”

Matt kissed the top of my head, his voice full of regret. “It wasn’t supposed to be like this. You should’ve never had to go through that. None of it’s your fault. Please remember that.”

I clung to him, feeling the warmth of his body against mine, the comfort of having him close. “My face fucking hurts.” I sobbed louder

“It will,” Charlie giggled, squeezing me tighter. “You’re just emotional and thinking your life is over cause you just got socked in the jaw. I promise you’ll be okay when you come back to your senses.” 

I giggle into Matt's chest through my sobs.

The sound of Charlie and Chris’s footsteps faded as they made their way upstairs, leaving Matt and I alone in the living room. I wiped my tears, the sobs starting to die down, but I still felt the weight of everything pressing on me. Matt gently lifted me off his lap, cradling me in his arms as if I was weightless, and carried me toward my bedroom.

I didn’t say anything as he laid me down on the bed, the soft sheets feeling oddly comforting against my skin. He pulled the covers up around me, his eyes scanning my face for any sign of pain or distress.

“I’m gonna go clean up, okay?” he said quietly, voice rough, but it was clear he was doing his best to keep it together.

Before he could leave, I grabbed his wrist, my grip weak but firm. “Matt, please,” I whispered, my voice small, fragile. “Stay.”

He hesitated, looking at me for a moment, the blood on his shirt and hands a reminder of what just happened. He took in a deep breath, the exhaustion in his eyes almost unbearable. “Y/N, I’m a mess,” he said, his voice quiet and unsure. “I’m covered in blood…”

“I don’t care,” I replied, my voice just as quiet. “Please, stay.”

Matt’s gaze softened, and after a moment of contemplation, he nodded. “Alright,” he murmured, stepping back to the bathroom. “I’ll be right back. Just… let me shower first.”

I lay back against the pillow, closing my eyes for a moment as I tried to gather my thoughts, the emotions swirling inside me. My face still hurt, but the sting was nothing compared to the emotional toll everything had taken.

When Matt returned, he was in nothing but his boxers, his hair damp from the shower. He looked different now, calmer, the blood and anger from earlier replaced by something more vulnerable. He crawled into bed beside me, pulling the covers back gently before settling down, his arm wrapping around my waist, pulling me close. I rested my head against his chest, letting the rise and fall of his breath steady my own.

I had changed into an oversized shirt, the comfort of the fabric a small relief, and I snuggled closer into Matt’s warmth, feeling the tension slowly leave my body.

“I’m here,” Matt whispered, his fingers brushing through my hair as he kissed the top of my head. 

I closed my eyes, the warmth of his body beside mine, his steady heartbeat against my ear, lulling me into a sense of calm. I didn’t know what would happen tomorrow, or how everything would play out, but for now, I just needed him here.

In the quiet of the room, with Matt holding me close, I allowed myself to drift into a deep, much-needed sleep, knowing that I wasn’t alone anymore.

I woke up slowly the next morning, the soft hum of the morning light slipping through the curtains, casting a golden glow across the room. My body was warm, Matt’s arm still draped around me, and for a moment, I felt comforted by the weight of him beside me. Then, as I shifted slightly, I felt a sharp pang of pain in my jaw. I flinched, and the sharp sensation made my breath catch in my throat.

Matt immediately looked down at me, concern flooding his eyes as he noticed my discomfort. “Hey, what’s wrong? What do you need?” he asked softly, his voice filled with worry.

I winced but smiled up at him, despite the pain. “Just… stay with me today, okay?” I whispered, my voice low and fragile. “I don’t want to be alone.”

Matt nodded without hesitation, pulling me a little closer into his chest, his hand softly rubbing my back as if to soothe the unease within me. “Of course,” he murmured. “I’m not going anywhere.”

For the next few hours, we stayed wrapped in the warmth of the bed, doing nothing but lounging and talking in low tones. We flipped through the TV channels, finally landing on an old rom-com that neither of us really cared about but still laughed at together. I didn’t mind the lighthearted distractions; it kept my mind off everything that had happened. We even joked about how cheesy the movie was, poking fun at the overly dramatic dialogue, which lifted my spirits, even if only for a while.

Around noon, we ordered food—comfort food, naturally. Matt had a burger, fries, and a milkshake, while I opted for a simple grilled cheese and tomato soup. As the food arrived, we sat on the couch together, eating while we chatted about nothing in particular. The conversation meandered through random topics—everything from silly stories about the trip to the latest memes we’d seen on Instagram. I felt a small sense of normalcy return, the type of comfort that was hard to come by recently.

After lunch, Matt suggested we try editing the vlog we had filmed on the trip. We moved to the desk in my room, and I set up my laptop while Matt helped sort through the footage. As we watched through the clips, it was almost surreal to see ourselves laughing, joking, and having a good time, knowing everything that had happened since. Matt sat behind me, his hands brushing against mine as we navigated the editing software, his presence a steady anchor.

“You know,” Matt said casually, “this trip wasn’t all bad. There were good parts, too.”

I smiled, glancing at him over my shoulder. “Yeah, the good parts were definitely worth it. And we made some memories, even if things got… messy.”

He chuckled softly, leaning down to kiss the top of my head. “Messy is an understatement.”

Once we wrapped up the vlog, we moved to the living room, deciding it was time to relax with a movie marathon. We picked a series we both enjoyed—one of those mindless, action-packed movies that didn’t require much brainpower. I snuggled up next to him, and we spent the next couple of hours watching as the characters on screen got into wild situations, while we lazily munched on snacks.

By mid-afternoon, we were both a little bored, but content. I glanced over at Matt and suddenly had an idea. “Hey, we should make a TikTok together. Just for fun,” I suggested.

Matt raised an eyebrow, clearly intrigued. “What kind of TikTok?”

“Something simple,” I said, grinning. “Just us, having fun, showing people we’re okay.”

He agreed, and I moved closer to him putting on a song we both knew as we lip synced it. As soon as we finished, I put the caption - we uploaded the video, laughing at how cute we both looked in the process. It wasn’t perfect, but it felt good to share something lighthearted.

After the TikTok was posted, we sat back down, and I rested my head on his shoulder.

Later in the afternoon, the doorbell rang, and Matt went to answer it. Moments later, Nick, Chris, and Charlie came into the living room, their expressions a mix of concern and hesitation. Charlie immediately came over, sitting next to me on the couch, her eyes scanning my face as if to gauge how I was holding up.

"Hey," she said softly, her tone cautious. "How are you feeling?"

I sighed, already sensing where this was headed. "I’m fine," I said quickly, waving her off.

Nick and Chris exchanged glances before sitting down across from us. Nick leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. "You sure, Y/N? You don’t look... you know... great."

I rolled my eyes, shifting uncomfortably under their pitying gazes. "Seriously, guys, I’m fine. You don’t have to—"

"You don’t have to pretend," Chris interrupted gently. "We get it. Yesterday was... a lot."

Matt came back into the room, standing behind the couch with his arms crossed. He looked at me, his jaw tight as if he wanted to jump in and defend me but held back.

Charlie reached for my hand, her voice soft and understanding. "We’re just worried about you, that’s all."

Something about their careful, almost coddling behavior made me snap. I stood up abruptly, pulling my hand away from Charlie and taking a step back. "Can you guys stop treating me like a baby?" My voice was sharper than I intended, but I didn’t care. "Yes, yesterday was awful, but I don’t need you walking on eggshells around me. I’m not going to break."

The room fell silent, everyone staring at me in surprise. I crossed my arms over my chest, determined to make my point clear. "Can we just drink or do something fun? Let’s forget yesterday happened, okay? I don’t want to sit here and dwell on it."

Nick was the first to break the tension, standing up with a slow clap. "Well, damn. There she is!" he said with a grin, his tone teasing. 

Chris smirked, shaking his head. "Alright, alright. If that’s what you want, we can do that."

Charlie hesitated for a moment, but then she smiled, standing up to hug me. "Okay, fine. But only if you promise to let us know if you’re not okay. Deal?"

"Deal," I said with a small smile, feeling a little lighter now that they’d backed off.

Matt disappeared into the kitchen and came back a moment later with a bottle of tequila and a mischievous grin. "Guess we’re doing this, then."

Charlie poured two shots, sliding one over to me with a sly grin. “Here’s to forgetting yesterday,” she said, raising her glass. I clinked mine against hers, the sharp sound echoing in the room before we both threw back the tequila. The burn was immediate, but the warmth that followed felt like freedom.

"Alright, our turn," Nick called out, grabbing the bottle. He poured shots for himself, Chris, and Matt. They raised their glasses in unison, Nick declaring, "To... whatever this night turns into!" before downing their shots together.

An hour in, the tequila bottle was half-empty, and I was at least seven shots deep, feeling a buzz that made everything a little brighter and a lot funnier. Charlie was giggling uncontrollably at one of Nick’s terrible jokes, and Chris was trying to teach Matt how to shuffle a deck of cards, which wasn’t going well.

I leaned back on the couch, letting the laughter wash over me before sitting up with a sudden idea. "Okay," I announced, clapping my hands together. "We’re all sufficiently drunk, so I think it’s time for food."

Nick groaned dramatically, as I argued with him to order me an uber to go to McDonalds. “Why can’t we just get it delivered like normal people? UberEats exists for a reason.”

I shook my head stubbornly, the tequila making me bold. “Nope. I want fresh fries, not ones that have been sitting in someone’s car for twenty minutes.”

Charlie clapped her hands in agreement, laughing. “She’s got a point, Nick. Nothing hits like fresh McDonald’s fries.”

Nick sighed, pulling out his phone. “Fine, I’ll order the Uber. But if I get a bad rating because of you, you owe me.”

“I’ll owe you fries!” I yelled at him.

Charlie jumped up from her seat, nearly tripping over the coffee table in her excitement. “I’m coming with you, Y/N!”

Before I could reply, Matt shot up from his spot on the couch, his drunk eyes narrowing. “Absolutely not.”

Charlie and I both turned to him in confusion. “What do you mean, ‘absolutely not?’” Charlie asked, crossing her arms.

Matt crossed the room, standing in front of us like a protective wall. “I don’t trust two drunk girls to go to McDonald’s in the middle of the night. I’m coming with you.”

Nick smirked, looking up from his phone. “Tough guy Matt activated.”

“Whatever,” I muttered, grabbing my purse. “As long as we get fries, I don’t care who comes.”

A few minutes later, the Uber arrived, and Matt made sure both Charlie and I were buckled. 

The Uber driver was a middle-aged man with a cocky grin plastered across his face. The moment we got into the car, he started with a casual comment. “So, what brings you guys out this late?” His eyes flicked to the rearview mirror, locking on me with just a little too much interest.

I was too tipsy to care at first, so I laughed and answered, “The holy grail. Fries.”

He chuckled, a little too enthusiastically. “You’ve got good taste. A pretty girl like you deserves fresh fries, not cold ones.”

Matt stiffened beside me, his jaw tightening as he stared out the window, his hands clenched into fists on his lap. I could practically feel the tension radiating off of him, but he didn’t say a word.

The driver wasn’t done. “So, you’re from around here? If you ever need a ride again, maybe you can give me a call directly.”

Matt’s head snapped toward him, but he stayed silent, clearly trying to keep his cool. I knew he didn’t want Nick’s Uber rating to take a hit, but the frustration in his eyes was evident.

Feeling bold and a little spiteful, I decided to stir the pot. “Oh, actually—” I said sweetly, cutting myself off as I unbuckled and shifted in my seat climbing into Matt’s lap, straddling him. His hands instinctively gripped my hips, his eyes widening in surprise as I leaned in.

“Y/N, what are you doing?” Matt started, his voice low and intrigued.

“Showing him who I belong too” I pressed my lips to his, kissing him. He deepened the kiss by grabbing the back of my head to pull my face in closer, while his other hand tightened on my hip. The kiss was hot and intense, fueled by tequila and adrenaline.

I could feel the driver’s gaze darting nervously to the rearview mirror, but I didn’t care. If he wanted to flirt, he could deal with the consequences.

Matt finally pulled back slightly, his breath hot against my lips. “I'm going to have a boner now.” he whispered, though his voice held more amusement than anger.

“Good,” I whispered back, a smug smile on my face.

He groaned softly, shaking his head but unable to hide the small grin tugging at his lips. The rest of the ride was silent except for Charlie’s giggles beside us. By the time we got to McDonald’s, the driver seemed thoroughly flustered, and Matt looked like he was ready to strangle me—but not in a bad way.

The Uber pulled up to the house, and as the driver put the car in park, I turned to him with an exaggeratedly sweet smile, still feeling the tequila running through my veins. "Thank you, mister!" I chirped, leaning forward to kiss his cheek dramatically.

Matt's grip on the bags tightened, and before I could pull back, I felt a sharp smack on my butt. "Let’s go," he growled lowly, his hand lingering on my hip as he gently guided me toward the door. His touch sent a jolt through me, but I bit my lip to stop myself from laughing as we walked up the driveway.

When we stepped inside, the smell of tequila still clung to us, and Charlie was already grinning, ready to spill. “Oh my god, you guys are NOT gonna believe what just happened!” she squealed, making a beeline for Chris and Nick, who were sprawled on the couch.

“What now?” Nick asked, raising an eyebrow as he handed Chris another beer.

Charlie threw herself onto the couch dramatically. “So, we’re in the Uber, and the driver’s this totally creepy older dude, right? He keeps flirting with Y/N—like full-on, ‘call me directly for rides’ flirting. Matt’s sitting there, probably about two seconds from exploding, but he’s holding it in for Nick’s Uber rating. Like, he’s fuming, jaw clenching, hands in fists—the whole thing.”

Chris chuckled, leaning forward. “Oh no, what did she do?”

“She climbs onto Matt’s lap,” Charlie continued, her eyes wide for effect, “like, full straddle. And then she starts making out with him—like, right there in the Uber. I swear the driver looked like he was about to cry.”

Nick nearly choked on his drink. “No way.”

“Oh, it gets better,” Charlie added, holding up a finger. “When we get to the house, she kisses the guy on the cheek—like a little ‘thank you’—and Matt smacks her ass and says, ‘Let’s go.’ It was like something out of a movie.”

Chris doubled over laughing, while Nick shook his head, his mouth open in disbelief. “I cannot leave you two alone for one second. You’re both absolute menaces.”

“Tell me something I don’t know,” I said, plopping onto the couch beside Matt, who rolled his eyes but pulled me into his side anyway. His arm draped protectively around my shoulders as the group erupted into more laughter, reliving the story like it was the most ridiculous thing they’d ever heard. 

The party kept going, the energy in the house reaching a chaotic peak. Chris and Charlie were in some kind of dramatic arm-wrestling competition, Nick was trying to convince everyone he could do a backflip off the couch, and I was doubled over laughing at… honestly, I wasn’t even sure what. Everything just felt hilarious.

Matt stood from the couch and stretched, his voice cutting through the noise. “Alright, it’s time for bed,” he said, looking directly at me with a pointed expression.

I grinned at him, feeling bold and bubbly from all the shots. “I’m going to bed with Matt!” I shouted, throwing my hands in the air for dramatic effect.

The room erupted into laughter, everyone yelling, “Goodnight, Y/N!” in unison like it was some inside joke we all shared.

Matt shook his head but grabbed my hand, leading me toward the stairs. I stumbled a little but let him guide me, giggling the whole way. Once we got to the bedroom, he pulled off his shirt and jeans being left in just boxers. I stood in the middle of the room, trying to yank my hoodie over my head without falling over. Eventually, I managed to kick off my shoes and flop onto the bed in just my oversized t-shirt.

Matt climbed into bed, leaning back against the headboard, looking like he was about to say something. But before he could, I crawled onto his lap, straddling his waist. My hands cupped his face, and I leaned down, pressing my lips to his in a messy, needy kiss.

His hands found my hips, steadying me as he kissed back harder “Y/N,” he murmured against my lips, his voice muffled but firm.

“Hmm?” I kissed him again, trailing my hands down his chest as I grinned against his mouth. “What is it?”

“Y/N,” he said again, pulling back slightly. His forehead pressed against mine, and I could feel his breath, warm and shaky. “We can’t… not like this.”

“Why not?” I pouted, tilting my head as I brushed my lips along his jaw. “I want you, Matt. Right now.”

He let out a deep sigh, his grip on my hips tightening slightly before he loosened it. “I don’t want to do this for the first time again while we’re drunk,” he said softly, his eyes locking with mine. “I want it to mean something. I want you to remember it—every part of it.”

I blinked at him, my drunken haze making his words sink in slower than usual. “That’s… sweet,” I mumbled, though I wasn’t fully ready to give up. I leaned in again, “Lets just… Kiss than” I smashed my lips back into his rougher than before.

“Just. Kiss. Than,” He said each word in between kissing,

I grinded my hips into his as I felt his erection grow under me, I moved my lips to his jaw, and finally to his neck where I sucked and bit it softly making sure to leave marks. I continued rolling my hips into him while he was a moaning mess.

“Fuck your making this really hard,” he said through a moan. 

“Good.” I said as my hands grabbed his neck connecting my lips back to his.

After a few more minutes of making out he lifted my hips off him and placed me on the bed next to him.

“Your done. My dick actually hurts” he said, laying down pulling me into him. I giggled as I snuggled into his chest.

“Goodnight sweetheart” He said as he kissed my forehead.

I closed my eyes, the weight of the night finally catching up to me, and fell asleep to the sound of his breathing, feeling more content than I cared to admit.

tag-

@tbfaptbfae @ch0llies @2muchofaslvt @rockstarchr1s @simply-a-simper @mattscore @watercolorskyy @urfungi @sturnsvelocity @mattsturnii @christmastreecake @izzylovesmatt @larnieboox88 @christophersstar @realuvrrr @namelesssav @matts-girlfriend

[venomwrites]

This fic was inspired by both the concept art of Vi using a Kiramman banner as a blanket during the pit fighter era and Caitlyn saying that arrests need cause. Cross Posted to Ao3

“Hey, Cait?”

Caitlyn glances up from her book to see Vi emerging from the bathroom. There’s a frown on her face as she holds the brown bottle of antiseptic in her hand. Caitlyn tries to think of what she could be upset about or what she could need it for. Vi is quiet a lot of the time though. More content right now to sit in front of the fire than to do anything that would get her injured. When she leans against the bathroom frame, all Caitlyn can see is unbroken skin. Her eyes are fixated on the bottle as she turns it over in her hand. Finally Caitlyn cannot take the silence any longer. 

“Yes?” She prods gently, “what is it?”

“Why is this here?” Vi asks in the same tone. 

“It’s antiseptic?” Caitlyn offers, unsure of the question. A brief flash of frustration creases Vi’s face, “it’s usually in the bathroom. Unless there’s somewhere else—“

“No, I mean,” Vi runs her thumb around the cap, “why are you getting your antiseptic from Zaun?”

Something cold creeps up Caitlyn’s spine. Vi’s blue grey eyes remain on her as she stares. Caitlyn swallows tightly, feeling as though she’s been caught doing something naughty. It’s on the tip of her tongue to say that it’s a common antiseptic. One that everyone can get with a few coins. Or she could mention the black market. Even though the label on the bottle says it was made in Piltover, it could have made it’s way there. Slipped past the rows and rows of Enforcers she had positioned on the bridge opening each crate with crowbars. It could have happened. But lying to Vi is not something she can bring herself to do again. Even if the desire lingers like the taste of liquor on her tongue. 

“It was just a few things—“

She’s not expect Vi to look quite so betrayed as she looks down at the bottle. Even though she has every right to feel betrayed. Betrayed and so much worse. But Caitlyn can’t bear the look at this late hour as Vi grips the bottle like a lifeline and looks at her like a threat. She gets out of bed, tightening her robe and coming around to the foot of it. 

“Can I explain?” She asks, “please?” 

Vi nods but doesn’t move. 

“I wanted to have cause for the arrests,” Caitlyn starts, “we investigated everything we could find. Including vandalism.” 

Vi closes her eyes in annoyance. 

“The banner.”

Caitlyn swallows tightly. 

“They said you were using it as a blanket,” Caitlyn forces herself to continue, “living in that room,” her stomach rolls at the memory of the photographs, “I decided every arrest and I saw those pictures—“

“You saw pictures of me?”

It takes all of Caitlyn’s strength to appear collected and nod at the tone in Vi’s voice. She doesn’t blame her. She wouldn’t have wanted anyone to see her in that state either. It was really just two photographs but the story they told still makes Caitlyn’s stomach roll. Vi curled under the banner, somehow impossibly tiny on an already small bed. Then Vi sprawled out on the bed with a bottle by her foot, arm’s strewn about. You could count her ribs in the second picture, even through the filthy window. It had been alarming how quickly she became gaunt. Everything in Caitlyn had screamed at the sight of her state. Screamed for her to run and get her. But then she remembered those photographs were only in her possession because she was in charge of martial law. So she had thrown them into the fire and declined to arrest someone whose only crime was desperation. 

“Yes,” Caitlyn says, “I declined your arrest—“

“How did you recognize me?” Vi cuts in, “only Loris and Jinx recognized me.”

“We slept next to each other for weeks,” Caitlyn points out, “how could I not recognize you?” Vi is quiet so Caitlyn continues, “I declined your arrest but I couldn’t just not do anything.”

Vi is quiet and Caitlyn wonder which insult will come out of her mouth first as she thumbs the label of the bottle. If she’s even going to want to yell at her. In a way, Caitlyn would rather have the yelling than the silence. But she can’t bring herself to interrupt Vi while she digests this latest round of betrayal. All Caitlyn can do is quietly try not to fidget and run through the list. Every time, it makes her cringe. Before Vi came back it was because she had no idea how she got away with it. It felt like so much, like such a risk. After, it was because she had no idea how to explain herself. When Vi was there, it felt woefully inefficient. How did one explain to someone that they betrayed them, abandoned them but also tried to intervene just enough so they wouldn’t die? It sounded impossibly cruel, even to Caitlyn’s ears. 

“So this and what else?” Vi asks finally. Caitlyn looks at her and her eyes slowly move towards her, “all of it?” She asks in a voice that is alarmingly small. 

“No,” Caitlyn says quickly and then winces, “I don’t think—“

But Vi is already on her feet, one hand dragging through her hair and the antiseptic clenched in her fist. Caitlyn knows where her mind is going. Panic thrums under her skin as she tries to correct this in some way that doesn’t have Vi running into the night in her pajamas. 

“It was barely anything,” Caitlyn protests. 

“You kept me alive!” Vi cries, her voice ringing with betrayal, “you—“ she drops back onto the bed next to her, “the whole time it was you.”

“No, of course not,” Caitlyn says quickly, “I hardly did anything. I’m sure a lot of it was Jinx—“

“Tenth stair, third crate, right side of the door,” Vi rattles off. 

Caitlyn presses her lips together. 

“I didn’t want you falling on anything,” she mutters tightly. 

It had to be obvious but not too obvious so it wouldn't get stolen. Vi had to be able to find it but not realize it was left for her. It wasn’t like it was anything terribly extravagant, but it was enough. Coins wrapped in tissues and tucked into cups to look discarded. Bottles of antiseptic. Rolls of wraps and gauze. At least once a month it was a half torn shopping bag arranged to look forgotten but containing menstrual supplies and a few treats. Again it was nothing that would bring attention to itself, nothing that would matter to anyone. Except someone who had never lived alone as an adult. Someone who might not remember how to get a meal that didn’t involve sliding a tray along a line. Vi looks at the antiseptic again and Caitlyn tries to string together something. Anything. But how did one even begin to explain this? She opens her mouth and closes it again when nothing perfect comes to mind. And then she sees the wetness in Vi’s eyes and her stomach drops further. 

“I should—“

“The bag was you as well, wasn’t it?” She says. Caitlyn only barely nods, “Loris said it was a great find and on my birthday,” she shakes her head, “you got me a birthday present.”

“It was your first birthday,” Caitlyn protests.

“You know I hallucinated you?” Vi says. Caitlyn stiffens, “when I was drunk I’d see you. I thought I was going crazy,” she shakes her head, “but you were there the whole time.”

“No,” Caitlyn says quickly, touching Vi’s forearm before she can overthink it, “no, I just couldn’t let you starve—“

“Or get an infection—“ Vi cuts in. 

“I just didn’t want you to die,” Caitlyn mutters. 

“Or not celebrate my birthday,” Vi says, turning the bottle over in her hands. She shakes her head again and looks at Caitlyn, “First time I busted my knuckles in the pit I just kind of figured what the hell,” she says, “I was just gonna leave ‘em. Or be drunk enough for the sting,” she strokes the label with her thumb absently, “I wouldn’t let Loris come up. Even though he asked. Fell flat on my face on the last step,” she shakes her head, “you pour them out yourself?”

Caitlyn fights the urge to melt in embarrassment. 

“I thought you would figure it out if they were full.”

Vi makes a noise of disbelief and Caitlyn looks for something to get her off the bed. It’s a cowards move but that is par for the course with all of this. How many nights did she spend in the bathroom cursing Vi and pouring out antiseptic until it was enough to take care of whatever was wrong with her but not enough for the bottle to look full? Any window of Vi coming back to her was firmly shut while Ambessa breathed down her neck, but she couldn’t just leave her to die. No matter how angry she was, she couldn’t do that. Not when there was a chance she could prevent it. Vi gives her an impossibly fond look and that is all Caitlyn needs to lurch up from the bed. 

“It was the bare minimum,” she says, “anyone would have done it—“

“Cait that’s not true—“

“Stop interrupting me!” She erupts finally. 

Vi pushes herself up. Caitlyn turns to the doorframe, wrapping her arms around herself. This was not what she thought was going to happen tonight. Certainly she thought they would have the conversation some day. But she was hoping for more time before Vi realized she was just as much of a monster inside. Just a little time. Except Vi doesn’t bolt for the door or yell back. She just joins Caitlyn in the entrance to the bathroom, like she has countless times before. When the panic wins and Caitlyn can barely bring herself through the threshold. Like she has any right to be afraid anymore. But Vi sits there and hums as she showers, hums so when Caitlyn sticks her head out she can hear she isn’t about to be attacked. She’s not sure if she can stand Vi humming right now, she doesn’t deserve it. Even less than she did a few hours ago and she didn’t deserve it then. 

“Why are you downplaying saving my life?” Vi asks. 

“I didn’t!” Caitlyn protests, turning around, “that was Loris and Jinx and you,” she tightens her arms, “I had a few bottles of antiseptic dropped where you would find them—“ Vi opens her mouth, “and you were still covered in half infected injuries when we were at the hospital so it didn’t even work.” 

Vi is quiet for a moment but Caitlyn isn’t fooled that she is going to accept what she’s said. 

“The water never went off,” she says, instead of whatever Caitlyn is expecting, “the place had electricity the whole time. I thought it was Loris,” Caitlyn opens her mouth to give the credit to him, “you never stopped paying him.”

Caitlyn shakes her head. 

Vi lets out a trembling breath. 

“You know I pulled down that banner because it was the only warm thing I could find?” She says hoarsely, “the only thing thing that felt safe?” She drums her fingers against the brown glass, “but it wasn’t.”

Caitlyn cringes at the memory of the picture. 

“You were taking care of me the whole time,” Vi says but there’s no anguish in her voice. Just that tone that slips in when something isn’t making sense, “I left you—“

“No I left you,” Caitlyn says, unable to hear her beat herself up about the fight one more time, “I was so angry I didn’t even think about the danger you would be in or how you would react,” she shakes her head, “I know it was nothing but it was all I could do.”

“Hey,” Vi is in front of her suddenly, fingers cupping her cheeks. The bottle rolls across the carpet, “this wasn’t nothing. Not to me.”

Caitlyn can’t help but turn her cheek into the warmth of Vi’s hand as her thumbs brush along her cheekbones. 

“I was still mad,” Caitlyn whispers, steeling herself for the motion to stop. 

But instead she’s greeted by a warm chuckle as it continues. 

“You take care of everyone you’re mad at?” Vi teases, like they both don’t know the answer to that question. 

Caitlyn guides VI’s hands down and clasps them in her own. It used to be so easy to do this. To tell people the perfect thing, to choose her words with such care they would get the desired result. But Vi has always been uniquely good at squirming past the games. She squirms past Caitlyn’s politicians tongue and curls somewhere deep in her chest. The places she’s been told never to truly let people in. But Vi curls there all the same, too far in to every truly be cast out. Even in those dark, awful moments when Caitlyn half wishes she could. When she tells herself it would be better if she could. 

“I knew this was your first time being alone in seven years,” she says softly, “just because we were apart didn’t mean I wanted you to suffer,” she looks down at their joined hands, “when I saw you were, I couldn’t just sit here.”

Vi tugs her fingertips into her palms and tangles their fingers together. She squeezes Cailtyn’s hands until she looks up to see Vi’s bright eyes looking at her. Vi says nothing but she drops her hands and folds her arms around Caitlyn. There’s something about Vi’s embrace that makes her body relax. It used to scare her. The guilt was cloying when Vi hugged her and she felt safe. What right did she have to feel safe when the world had just been destroyed? When they parted ways, one of the most cutting regrets she had was how quickly she ended their embraces. She can’t remember if she told Vi that or if she pieced it together, but now when Vi folds her into an embrace she always tangles a hand in something. Hair, her jacket, some layer so when Caitlyn pulls back there’s a tug that makes her pause. This time it’s her robe and Caitlyn feels her warm, calloused palm settle against her bare shoulder. 

“Thanks for getting me though it,” Vi says softly, lips close to her ear. 

Caitlyn presses her nose to the juncture of Vi’s shoulder and her neck. Vi smells like fresh soap and beeswax and lately her own conditioner. It’s rapidly becoming Caitlyn’s favorite smell in the world. She is stupidly grateful to breathe it in as another truth settles between them. Vi’s thumb rubs against her shoulder as Caitlyn sinks into her embrace. The nerves seem to escape her and she feels impossibly tired as Vi holds her. There’s a soft almost laugh as Vi shifts and slips her arms around her. It’s silly for it to feel so nice to be carried, but Caitlyn relaxes into the easy warmth of the embrace as Vi brings her back to bed. When she goes to pull back, Caitlyn catches her wrist. Vi smiles and slips into bed, wrapping her arms around her again. 

“So how many bottles did you throw?” Vi asks into her shoulder. 

“A lot,” Caitlyn replies, “why do you think the curtains changed color?”

Vi snorts softly against her skin. The notion of Caitlyn getting annoying and tossing around bottles of antiseptic as she tried to figure out how to care for Vi from afar without her realizing doesn’t seem to lessen how Vi feels about the gesture. If anything it makes her snuggle closer to Caitlyn. Her fingers undo the knot of her robe belt so she can be more comfortable before settling on her waist again. 

“Are you mad I didn’t tell you immediately?” Caitlyn asks into the darkness. Vi shakes her head against her neck, “why?"

“Are you mad I figured it out?” Vi asks. Caitlyn shakes her head in return. Vi pushes her hair back and brushes her lips against Caitlyn’s neck, “why would I be mad you saved my life?”

Caitlyn sighs. 

“When you put it like that I sound completely foolish,” she mutters. Vi smiles against her neck, “alight, fair point,” Caitlyn concedes, “I just wish I could have done more.”

“Come on, Cupcake,” she says, pulling her from the miserable thoughts with the nickname, “we both know it wasn’t that easy.”

They’ve played this out a million times before. What if they had emerged from that temple together somehow? What if Vi had been there when Ambessa made her declaration? Each route ends more bloody or sad than the last. War, death, imprisonment, heartbreak—a thousand gruesome fates. None of which end with them tangled in bed picking at wounds and nuzzling kisses over hurts. The best route Caitlyn can think of, the one Vi cajoles from her lips one terrible night, is Salo starting a war that leaves both of them dead. The one truth that seems to ring through is the separation saved both their lives. It’s a trade Vi makes without a second thought and only later does Caitlyn realize it’s because she’s done it before. Every night Caitlyn vows to do everything in her power to make sure she never has to make it again. 

“I’m glad it helped,” Caitlyn whispers, “I’m glad you’re here.”

“I’m glad we’re here,” Vi tells her. 

For tonight, that’s more than enough. 

[mythicmanuscripts]

I want to overstimulate aegon !

You and me both anon!! You and me both.

I've definitely written about overstimulating Aegon before because I don't think it's possible to write NSFW Aegon without it. Thinking about how obvious it is that Aegon would love that made me think about how most of the castle would be at least a little aware that you dom Aegon and that without you doing that he turns into a little terror no one can handle.

So that's what you'll find below the cut! I hope that's alright with you anon. If you or anyone else wants a more in-depth response about overstim then feel free to request it again and just made sure to add some form of detail about it so that I'm not just rewriting my overstimulating thoughts again. Enjoy!

Before you came along Aegon was definitely known for being willing to fuck and get fucked by just about anyone. He could have single handedly kept king's Landing's brothels open.

Aegon liked you from the moment he met you. Even though it was an arranged marriage and done for political power, he would still much rather have married you than any of the other possible spouses he could have chosen from. You were the only one who seemed to have a sense of humour, the only one who could joke with him and clearly wasnt afraid of him. He loved that from your very first conversation with him.

Once you're married, you and him both know your duties. You and him are to produce a few heirs, enough that there will definitely be someone to take over the iron throne even with a few deaths and then after that you could both sleep with whoever you wanted and you hardly had to even see each other after that.

You were prepared to do that, but you had promised yourself that you would not take it laying down (literally). You refused to allow it to be 10 minutes of boring fucking where you just wait til he's finished and then he leaves. Absolutely not. You were going to get some enjoyment out of this.

Aegon also expects for it to be like that, until you walk into your new shared chambers and push him up against the wall. And well... he is most certainly not complaining. You expect some resistance from him but nothing even close to that happens. You take control and he just becomes to pliant?

You have absolutely no idea where the man you had heard so many bad things about was. You had heard so much about his selfishness and desire and how rough he would make it, but you see absolutely none of that. From the moment you had him against the wall he was yours to play with.

You swear he was made for this purpose. There's no other explanation for it. He begs so quickly and so easily, wanting so badly to be good for you.

So of course you have your fun, and you very quickly discover how pretty he looks when he cries after his third orgasm. Poor little thing can't even get his legs to stop shaking.

And when you finished and you got into bed to let him cuddle into you? Well now you're it for him. He got completely wrecked AND he also got cuddles? Yeah no one else will ever be accepted again.

The entire castle is in shock for the next few weeks because Aegon doesn't leave for a brothel once? In fact he sent letters to three brothels informing them that he would no longer need his weekly booked room.

Things start to make a little more sense when they start to see you two together more often. Aegon looks at you like you hung the moon and all the stars. He's always holding your hand, always looking for you, always making sure there's space beside him for you.

It's very clear that you have a grounding effect on him, but what people don't know is how much of that effect comes from you absolutely wrecking him at least once a week.

You always know you've got to make time for that soon when he starts to get even whinier than usual (yes, it's actually possible) and he may genuinely cry if you have to go somewhere alone. Even when he is with you he's alls squirmy and unsettled, constantly moving around and snapping at anyone else who tries to get his attention.

You sort that out by getting an evening free of obligations and taking control the moment you're alone with him. Aegon needs to be pushed to his limits, needs to cum so many times he can barely even think never mind string a sentence together.

(You always start by letting him get you off, because you've learnt the hard way that if he realises at the end of a scene that you havent cum he will go straight into subdrop and feel like a failure.)

After that his favourite is when you sit next to him and drape his leg over your thigh to get full access. He whines and cries against your shoulder, mumbling broken pleas and cumming all over your hand every time you tell him to. He always cleans it up though!!! He'll lick your hand hand clean and then if you don't move your arm quick enough he will take your fingers into your mouth and then you're in trouble because if you pull away without giving him something else to suck on then he will just start crying. Poor thing is too fucked out you must help him!!

You spend the entire night and most of the next morning in bed with him after that. When he does emerge he's always in a much, much better mood and actually does all the things he's supposed to do.

[l-starsz]

a/n: part 2 finally! i think we might need a part 3 though.. (i genuinely did not think i’d write so much for this😭)

(part 1)

cheater billie part 2

i woke up at 10am. my head was pounding from all the crying. my mind immediately went to what had happened the previous night. i was stressed about it. i was stressed about her.

i obviously still wanted her. i mean, who wouldn’t? she was so perfect. i was just worried. i had no clue whether she’d cheat on me again or if she was serious about what she said.

i wondered if she’d actually call. maybe she didn’t mean what she said. my mind spun with thoughts for a while. until i decided to actually get up. i brushed my teeth, then went back to my room to do my makeup.

once i was done, i brushed my hair, then headed downstairs. i needed to clean, so i played some music and began cleaning the house. i was doing this for a good few hours, just making sure everything was spotless. i worked my way around the house, and soon enough it was 2pm.

i’d completely finished everything i needed to do, so i rushed upstairs to have a shower so that i could finally relax.

i felt so much better once i was out, putting some comfy clothes on and doing my short after-shower routine before heading downstairs. i went straight to the living room, curling up on the sofa under a warm blanket.

i put a movie on tv and laid there. whilst i was laying there, my mind finally drifted back to billie. it was getting later and she still hadn’t called. i hadn’t even thought about her at all. because i’d been distracted.

but it was as if she could hear my thoughts, because right as i began to focus on the movie again, my phone rang. it was loud, and startled me from my own mind. my heart began racing. my hands shook as i took the phone into my hands, slowly and carefully answering the call.

i took a deep breath when i heard her speak.

“hey, uh, i said i’d call you.” she mumbled, slightly awkwardly.

“you did.. i remember, billie.”

it felt so awkward all of a sudden. i was waiting for the call all day, and now it just didn’t feel right. it didn’t feel right speaking to the girl who broke my heart.

“yeah.. i was wondering if.. if i could take you out sometime next week? please. i planned something.”

“hmmm.. let me think about it.” i knew i’d say yes, i just wanted to see how she’d react.

i knew i shouldn’t be letting her back into my life like this. i knew it was wrong. especially after all that had happened. but i missed her. i missed her so much, i needed her. she was the only person who ever fully knew me. i still needed her.

“please.. please! i’ll do anything. i have it all planned out. i’ll make it perfect. i’ll make everything up to you, i promise.” she begged.

wow, she really was desperate. surely she wouldn’t be so desperate for me to let her take me out if she didn’t care. right? surely she would’ve given up by now if she didn’t care.

“of course you can take me out. you really think i’d say no?” i giggled.

i heard her let out a sigh of relief as i continued laughing at her.

“okay uh.. i’ll text you details! and i have one more question..”

“what is it, billie?” i quietly asked.

“can you come over tonight? please.” she whispered.

“i’ll be there later.” i smiled.

we spoke for a few minutes longer before we ended the call.

i looked over to the tv to see the movie ending. i turned the tv off and went upstairs, quickly getting myself ready and changing before leaving my house.

it didn’t take me long to reach billies house. i hesitated before knocking on the door. was i making the wrong decision? my mind was filled with doubts. part of me wanted her back, and the other part of me was screaming that this was the wrong choice. i took a deep breath, then knocked.

she was quick to open the door, leading me inside before shutting it behind me. she guided me to the kitchen, where i smelt something good. she’d made food for us? she made my favourite meal. she’d put a lot of thought into this.

a small smile came to my face, and my cheeks turned pink. she looked over to see me smiling at her work. she smiled back, coming over to me and taking my hands.

“this is good billie, you’re really trying huh?” i mumbled, looking in her eyes.

“i really want to prove to you that i mean what i said. i have lots of stuff planned. this is just the start.” she continued smiling.

“yeah? what stuff, hm?”

“that would ruin the surprise.” she rolled her eyes, moving towards the counter and dishing up some food for us.

i giggled and followed her, taking the plate she handed to me before we sat down at the table. we ate, and spoke of course. i really had missed this. and it was almost as if she could read my mind when she spoke.

“you know, i’ve missed this.. i’ve missed you. way more than words could ever explain.” she sounded nervous.

“i’ve missed you too billie. but that doesn’t mean you’re forgiven yet.” i mumbled.

“i know, i know.. i’ll make it all up to you. just like i promised.”

i smiled, but i couldn’t stop the thoughts from creeping back into my mind. what if there’s someone else again? or what if i trust her and she finds someone else? my eyes drifted down to my hands as i played with the rings on my fingers. billie must’ve noticed, since she carefully lifted my head so i was looking at her, then spoke.

“what’s bothering you, hm? you can tell me.”

“it’s just.. i’m worried. what if you find someone better again? what if i trust you and you cheat again?” tears came to my eyes, thinking back to the moment when i found out.

“i understand, i know it’s gonna be so difficult to trust me again, but i promise you that i will never do something that stupid again. you’re the only girl i ever want in my life, you mean the world to me. i completely understand if you can’t trust me again, but please just let me try to prove it to you first.” she cupped my cheeks, her thumbs running over them as she looked into my eyes.

i nodded and looked to my lap.

“thank you.” i whispered.

“don’t thank me. i hurt you, i don’t deserve this.. i don’t deserve to be making it up to you, i mean, you could’ve easily told me no, but you didn’t. thank you. for everything. i’m lucky to even get to speak to you.”

“don’t say that bil.” i whispered, “you know i’ve always cared about you no matter what. i missed you so much.”

i moved her hands from my face and held them in mine, a small smile on both of our faces.

we spent hours together before i decided to go home, it was getting late and i was getting tired. so we said goodbye to eachother and i left.

“call me tomorrow billie?”

she nodded and smiled, waving me goodbye as i left. i really didn’t want to leave. but i knew it was right. i needed to take things slow, i couldn’t trust her right away.

[chaoticamelay]

OP i see your soft interfaith stucky headcanon and raise you:

some people with small families struggle to make enough dough to perform the mitzvah of hafrashat challah every week. with two supersoldiers eating, bucky barnes never needs to worry about making enough dough to say the bracha. despite this, every couple of months, bucky's weekly challah making takes a little longer than normal. he spends more time mixing ingredients and kneading the dough, and when he says the blessing and separates the challah, he's clearly made much more dough than he usually does.

soon, the lovingly-braided loaves are baking in the oven, four instead of two. once the extra loaves are cooled, bucky seals them in an airtight bag and puts them away in the freezer to keep.

because sometimes there are very bad days. there are very bad days, when bucky's head hurts so badly he can't think, when the phantom pain is too much, when the place where his arm joins to his body brings him to his knees, when the physical and mental weight of everything is simply too much. on very bad days, when it takes every fibre of bucky's being just to get out of bed, going to service is out and making challah feels a million light-years away.

so if a friday is a very bad day, steve quietly takes the premade challah loaves from the freezer and lets them thaw on the counter. without pushing or pressuring, steve helps him out of bed, and they have a quiet dinner next to the glowing candles. bucky says hamotzi over the labour of his past self, and it's okay. what he is able to do, it's more than okay, it is his best. this challah is a reminder that he will not always feel as bad as he does right now.

this isn't the end of the line.

Every Friday night, Bucky will make challah before service, just like his ma used to, having fresh bread as part of a warm pre-cooked meal to come home to and enjoy with his Stevie in the light of the shabbat candles; the carefully braided bread hiding under the embroidered cover until Bucky is ready to say motzi.

Early Sunday mornings, before Steve goes to church, Bucky will take the left-over challah and make a large pile of cinnamon French toast with maple syrup, berries, with a generous side of eggs and whatever kosher breakfast meat they happen to have. They eat up, drinking coffee or tea, sharing both the meal and loving, yet sleepy, smiles. On good days they play footsy under the table, cracking the occasional joke, and just bask in the early morning peace of their home. On bad days they lean into the certainty and stability of this little weekly tradition.

[somber-sapphic]

Undignified

〖Summary: Caitlyn wakes up in Vi's bed with a nasty fever.〗

〖Word Count: ~500〗

〖Pairing: Caitvi〗

〖Notes: Wow would you look at that, I wrote something! This is super short because I don't know the characters well yet. So sorry for any inaccuracies, I've only seen the show once. Please be nice, I haven't actually written anything in over half a year.〗

☾Masterlists☽

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

Caitlyn woke with gasp, followed by a series of rough coughs that shook her to her core as she tried to claw her way out of the blanket tucked around her. She didn't fully recognize her surroundings, the room was dark and small, but cozy in a way. She certainly wasn’t in Piltover, the lack of glistening white marble and sounds of fighting outside were enough to tell her that. So she was in the Undercity, that could only mean one thing.

“Easy there cupcake.” Vi murmured, a calloused hand settling on her forehead. Caitlyn stilled, the sound of her voice instantly calming her. It didn’t matter where she was anymore, she knew that she would be safe with Vi. The pink haired woman would keep her out of any real danger. With the question of her safety settled, Caitlyn allowed herself to look inward to her aching limbs and foggy head. 

“I’m ill?” She croaked, blinking up at the blurry figure of her girlfriend. No matter how hard she blinked she couldn’t manage to clear her vision, it was irritating. Being ill was irritating. She had so much to do, she had no time for this. Unfortunately frustration was not enough to stave off the fever that was keeping her practically nailed to the bed. She could barely keep her eyes open. 

“That's an understatement. I found you half conscious in an alley, figured it’d be better to take you here. That way I can keep an eye on you.” Vi brushed a strand of navy blue hair behind Caitlyn’s ear, studying her face with careful scrutiny. The enforcers skin was paper white, the fever flush on her cheeks making her appear even more frail. Her eyes were sunken, filled with anguish. 

The past few weeks had been tough on her, tougher than she’d ever truly let on. Vi knew to some extent, understood the wordless looks and touches that lasted longer than they needed to. There was never any doubt about the internal struggle Caitlyn had been waging, but also no conversation. There was no time for that conversation.

A barking cough tore itself from her lungs, the grating feeling scraping across her dry throat. She was too tired to lift a hand to cover her mouth, but she still tried to muffle the fit into the blanket. She was a woman of status after all, she needed to hold onto some decorum. 

She felt a cool glass press against her lips, a hand propping her head up so that she could drink. She took large, grateful sips, the liquid soothing her throat. 

“Thanks.” She mumbled, turning towards the hands that were holding her up. She wanted to be nearer to Vi, she felt alone without her touch. It was undignified, but there was no fight left in her. She needed comfort, the strong warrior had gone and replaced her with a weak, sick woman.

“Will you…lay with me? I’m cold…” Caitlyn murmured, emphasizing her point with a painful shiver. Her body couldn’t even do her the kindness of allowing her to be cold in peace, the body aches were enough to make her tear up. Vi grunted quietly and made her way under the blanket, wrapping the taller woman up in her arms. Caitlyn shifted so that she could place her head on Vi’s chest, taking comfort in her rhythmic breathing and steady heartbeat. She could allow herself this peace for a little while, just until her fever broke. 

〖Join My Taglist!〗@goldenempyrean

[xmads-omensx]

Hi I'm new here so, Can a have something about Noah calming his girl down, when she has a anxiety crisis? Sorry if this is kind weird ou anyting, but sometimes a think about Noah to make me feel better about my anxiety. (Sorry for my english, it' mu secong language)

Word Count: 1,295

Pairing: Noah Sebastian X Reader

Content Warnings: mentions of anxiety, panic attacks, swearing, vague mentions of past trauma, comfort, crying

Tags: @collisionofyourkissmakesitsohard @lacy1986 @collidewiththesav @kenjipepsi1 @follow-me-down-to-wonderland @alwaysfightforwhoyouare @chey-h @tosoundlessdarkistare @thisbicc @fadingangelwisp

Hi anon! Thank you so much for the request! It was actually quite therapeutic for me to write this since I have recently started struggling with panic attacks. I hope you enjoy!

Panic attacks were nothing new to me. In fact, it was quite rare for me to go any long length of time without having one.

Since meeting Noah, however, my anxiety had been somewhat better. I never really went out alone anymore, so I always had someone to distract me when my anxiety was getting bad. Panic attacks became a scarce occurrence which reduced more and more as our relationship progressed.

Granted, Noah had been taking a break from touring, so he was always just… there.

We hung out all of the time. In fact, it was odd if we weren’t together.

I loved that relationship that we had, but part of me felt guilty about it. Like I was depending on him.

Being near him made me feel at ease. Something that was taken away when he left for tour.

The first couple of days were manageable, but as time ticked by, my anxiety started to kick in again.

It wasn’t like I was having panic attacks left right and centre, but I felt more on edge. Going to supermarkets began to be the most stressful part of my week. I never interacted with people there anyway, so my anxiousness felt unnecessary.

 My stress levels increased the longer that Noah was away, and part of me felt guilty about it, which only made things worse.

I shouldn’t need to depend on Noah to keep my anxiety at bay,  I needed to learn how to deal with it on my own.

He called me every night and after every show to talk about our days and just  spend time together, which was the highlight of my day, but it was still hard being so far away from him. On top of that, our calls got shorter and shorter the more my anxiety took hold of me.

I became paranoid that he would leave me since the calls had been keeping him awake into the early hours of the morning, touring would be easier for him if he didn’t have a girlfriend waiting for him at home, and who would want to be with someone who can barely make it out of the house without freaking out.

In an attempt to break out of this crushing feeling, I invited Jesse out for lunch. We went to a beautiful café that was independently run by a lovely woman called Katie, who was hoping to add a small bookstore to the side of the café since many of her customers just came to the café to read.

Jesse’s ears perked up at the mention of this and he began to ask her questions about the books she liked, clearly flirting, but it was nice seeing him so enthusiastic about something like this. It put me at ease knowing that Jesse was the talkative one, therefore I wouldn’t have to do much other that sit and enjoy my iced tea and blueberry muffin, which were both absolutely divine.

I went to bed that night feeling peaceful, which was something that I hadn’t felt in a very long time.

Noah had called that night, but I was too tired to answer, so instead I sent him a simple text.

I’m too tired to call, but I can’t wait to hear from you tomorrow. I love you.

I awoke refreshed and well-rested which was a feeling that I welcomed with open arms.

My mind and body was freed from any stress or anxiety, which was a rare occurrence since Noah had been on tour.

Getting ready for the day felt even better. I took a long shower before doing my skincare, blow-drying my hair and putting on my makeup. I felt clean. I felt good. Fuck that, I felt amazing.

The only thing missing was a tall, tattooed man wrapping his arms around my waist as I went through the steps of my skincare routine and quizzing me on what each item did.

Shaking that thought from my head before it saddened me, I went about my day.

Jesse was sat on the sofa watching Star Wars whilst making awful lightsaber noises, making me laugh at him as I went to the kitchen to make myself a coffee.

“You got any plans today?” Jesse asked.

“Not really, I was thinking about going shopping. I need some new concealer so I was thinking about heading to Sephora.” I said with a shrug, sipping my warm coffee.

“Can I come?” He asked.

“Yeah of course.” I said with a smile.

Spending time with Jesse had really been my saving grace since Noah was away. He had rapidly become my partner in crime. So much so that we had made as many objects that we could in Noah and Jolly’s home studio upside down, simply because their reaction would be priceless.

“Yes!” Jesse exclaimed, making me laugh.

Once I had finished my coffee, the two of us set out to the shopping mall to spend way too much money, as we usually did.

Our little outing had gone excellently well until we were leaving Sephora.

A girl who looked about nineteen, bumped into me. Granted, it was completely my fault as I was so engrossed in conversation with Jesse that I didn’t see her coming at all.

“Watch where you’re going, dumbass.” She snarled.

“Oh my god, I am so sorry! It’s completely my fault, I wasn’t looking-“ I began to apologise.

“Save it. You’re Noah Sebastian’s girlfriend aren’t you?” She asked with a smirk.

Fuck.

The girl quickly took a photo of Jesse and I before walking away.

“Twitter is going to love it when I post this. Think of the cheating rumours!” She called over her shoulder with an evil smirk as she walked away.

My heart began to race.

Oh no.

Noah was away.

He would see the photos.

Oh shit he’s going to think I’ve actually cheated on him.

With his roommate and friend none the less.

Jesse didn’t say anything, but simply ushered me back to the car park and drove me home, completely ignoring the rest of the day that we had planned.

My body went into shut down.

My eyes stared in front of me.

My breathing quickened, making my chest hurt.

My heart raced.

Oh god.

I was having a panic attack.

I tried to calm myself down by playing Tetris on my phone. It usually helped take my mind off of it.

It didn’t work.

Before I knew it, I was curled up on Noah’s side of the bed with the lights off.

Jesse knew what to do if this happened since Noah had given him a brief crash course, but it wasn’t really helping.

I needed Noah.

Time flew by, or did it crawl by? I couldn’t tell.

Large hands stroked my hair. I could hear a heart beating.

Who was it?

The scent of Dior Sauvage began to fill my nostrils as I looked up and saw Noah’s angelic features looking down at me.

A lone tear escaped my eye as relief washed over me.

He was home.

“Don’t speak baby, just relax.” He whispered. “Jesse called and told me what happened. I was on my way home to see you anyway, so I don’t want you to worry about that. You’re safe. That girl’s post got deleted after Matt and Davis sassed her into deleting it.”

That made me laugh, which made Noah’s delicate smile widen.

“I’ve got you. I’ve always got you.” He whispered.

No matter what happened in my life, Noah would always be my safe space. I felt calm in his arms. I felt at peace, which was becoming rare for me.

As long as I had Noah, I would be okay.

Because he had me.

No matter what.

[cherryspeaches]

Sex, Money, Feelings, Die - Chapter 1

Summary: Having lost everything, you joined the games with no hope or expectation of winning. Despite it all, you found something interesting in #001. Maybe you'd stick around a little longer. Chapter wc: 1.1k

------------------------------------------------------------------------- Ugh. Shut the fuck up. The bed springs above me continued to creak, bearing the weight of the middle-aged man that lay on it. It doesn’t bode well to be a light sleeper in a room that you once shared with over 400 people. Little whispers, light snores and soft noises fill up the empty space of the huge room that you’ve been placed in, little rest is present amongst those remaining after the harrowing experience of witnessing death’s embrace, through a fucking children’s game of all things… You stare at the metal frame that lines and supports the bed above you, the only view that’s offered to you in this hellscape. Being placed in a very awkward third bunk placement has stifled your daydreaming tendencies, preferring the company and comfort of the make-believe instead of your present reality. You envied those close to the floor, being able to root their feet and center their bodies to the ground with much more ease. You also envied those closest to the ceiling, closer to the covered stars and having the room to breathe.  You chose to focus your thoughts towards your discontent with the sleeping arrangements, since the alternative is a reality you don’t want to face quite yet. Hoping that it’s been enough time since the lights went off, you slowly feel your pockets for your most treasured item: your older model MP3 player and wired headphones. Feeling it’s weight in your hand, you let out a small sigh of relief. You still don’t understand why they let you keep this when they confiscated literally everything else of yours, but you have noticed that they let players keep little items or trinkets like rapper extraordinaire Thanos with his entirely non-covert drug filled necklace, or that little old lady with that very gaudy hair pin that looks like it’s from the 60’s. You made a mental note to stay away from Thanos, those pretty little pills would do your attempt at recovery more harm than good. Unravelling the knot of your headphones, you go through the motions of placing each earbud in and turn on your device to play at the lowest speed possible, not wanting to draw any attention to yourself or your precious music player.  Letting the music fill your ears, you wonder if it’s worth trying to figure out literally anything about this place or if it’s simply easier to embrace your inevitable fate, it’s something you’ve been asking for at least for the last ten years. Having lost both your parents in a truck accident when you were just 18 devastated you in more ways than you could have ever expected. Not only did you lose your parents who have worked diligently to raise you and your older sister, but you also lost your physical home due to repossession from the bank after failing to pay back the necessary debts just days before their accident. Your parents had taken out a loan to be able to pay for the business that your father started, which suffered severely when the pandemic did its rounds. With no other family to turn to as all your grandparents had passed, your family had booked a motel for a week to organise themselves and try and figure out a living situation first, before looking at debt repayment strategies. The only available location within the affordable budget was in a very sketchy area, where crime was as natural as breathing. It was to no one’s surprise that your parents ended up losing their lives, the mode of death however was a surprise… so simple for a place where violence surrounds you. 

Their passing allowed you no time to grieve. You reached out to your older sister for support however every call, message and plea went unanswered. You weren’t surprised, she fell off the face of the earth a few years prior to the car accident, claiming she “made it” with her rich new boyfriend. You’d never met him, and you never knew what became of her. You had no time to grieve for the loss of your sibling bond either. 

The few days after the funeral, you had reached out to your old friend to ask for a place to live while you sorted yourself out. She had generously allowed you to stay on her couch as long as you needed, it was then that you truly felt the gravity of your situation. You got busy trying to find a job, only succeeding with night shifts at the convenience store. Depression manifested suddenly and severely in the following months, drowning you in waves ever since then. To put it lightly, there were more moments than you cared to admit where you convinced yourself that it might be easier if you just gave up. It’s in those moments that you can never truly place what brings you back from the edge. Was it the hope of reuniting with your sister? Was it the delusion of a misogynistic concept of being saved by a rich, loving prince charming? Was it the innate human nature of being desperate to live? As you mulled over this, you saw a shadow move towards your right, drawing you away from your melancholic thoughts. Trailing your eyes across the room, you spotted #001 keeping to the walls and heading towards the door. Huh. 

You knew it wasn’t your business, but you couldn’t help but let your eyes follow him. 

You hadn’t given him much thought since the vote, writing him off to be comprised of human greed like the rest of those who voted to stay (yourself included), but there was something magnetic about how he moved. He was like…a cat. No. More majestic. A panther. It was subtle but he moved with purpose, with such intention. Around him was an aura that just screamed superiority, but not in a condescending way. You had no clue what his past was but you’d bet your last dollar he had been in a position of power at one stage of his life. Normal people don’t walk that way. 

Even now, you couldn’t even say he’s creeping or hiding his movements as he walks to the door. He continues to walk with grace and purpose, it’s almost as though he’s bending the shadows to his will, and that they will listen to his command. He reached his destination and began a conversation with the pink guard stationed there. You quickly lost interest as you couldn’t hear anything, he’s probably just another older man needing to piss in the middle of the night. 

How curious though. Maybe you’d watch him tomorrow too. 

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

a/n: ahhhhh my first time writing in a very very long time!! would rly love any feedback <33

[chameleon66]

Ticklish tornado; An epic battle

Author’s note: About a week ago I got asked to write a tickle fanfic for Pomni and Jax and I have to say I had a blast writing this. I never really thought much about Pomni before but writing this helped me get to know her better (and of course I had fun writing Jax) So if any of you reading have a suggestion for a tickle fic for any characters from Sanders sides, Helluva Boss, Hazbin Hotel, Murder Drones, or The Amazing Digital Circus then please send in your ideas and I may write them (Won’t promise anything though). Also this can be read as romantic or platonic. With that being said, enjoy your reading.

Word count: 2535

Warnings: Tickling, Teasing, Mild touch aversion, Anxiety, Negative spiraling, Jax being a mischievous little bunny, angst, (Let me mknow if I need to add anything)

How many adventures must one go on to get used to this wacky place? Pomni thought as she walked through the portal Caine had opened up for them to go back into the circus tent.

It had been another crazy adventure of surprises, traumatic events, and trombones, and Pomni was feeling the drain from it. Not only did she feel exhausted but she also felt her anxiety racing in each of her fast heartbeats and rapid breathing, each movement around her felt like an abrupt explosion with her brain feeding her thoughts that did the opposite of soothing her troubles.

Will I ever get to leave this place? Does my family know I’m gone? Does anyone in the world miss me? How long has it been since I put on this headset? The digital world became increasingly drowned out to Pomni as her anxious thoughts began to snowball.

She was acutely aware of everyone sitting down in the couch area with her muscle memory being the only thing to pull her to sit down on a couch alone, away from everyone else. Whatever they were talking about was a distant murmur.

Her chest felt tight, her vision felt hazy, and her stomach felt like it was trying to digest itself. Pomni was indeed spiraling and like with most cases she didn’t know how to bring herself back.

Time passed, or maybe it didn’t? Pomni couldn’t be sure anymore. When the snap of fingers in front of her face seemed to pull her out of her spiraling thoughts and suddenly she was back on the couch with a close up of Jax’s face jumpscaring her.

“Ahhh!” Pomni screamed quietly as she flinched back.

“Oh good, you’re still alive.” Jax stated assured, while moving out of Pomni’s face and behind the couch.

Pomni then watched him walk behind the couch then lean both of his arms down then rested his head on them all while looking at her.

“How long have I been sitting here?” Pomni asked.

“If I had to guess~.” Jax dragged out the last word as he looked skyward in consideration of his answer. “About four hours.” He shrugged.

Pomni only sighed, even if Jax had been there far longer than her, how could she trust his ability to keep track of time?

“Everyone else checked in for the night.” Jax clarified, tha mean’t it was only her and Jax here.

“So~ something on your mind or is staring out into space with your eyes going on all scribbly scrabbly just a new hobby of yours?” Jax titled his head at Pomni waiting for her answer.

Pomni hesitated, her and Jax had never been close, in fact no one was close with Jax. Mostly because he bullied everyone and just generally made everyone feel uncomfortable.

Though he had seemed pretty nice back at Spudsy’s when he got back from…wherever Gangle had sent him off to and they had a short exchange, where he didn’t even try to joke or make fun of Pomni, so maybe part of him wasn’t all that bad.

“It’s just been…a lot, lately.” Pomni’s voice dropped in volume while talking just out of habit but Jax seemed to have no problem understanding.

“How so?” Jax pushed further. Pomni supposed if Jax got mean she could just ditch him and hide away in her room.

“Just - the idea of being here forever and missing out on everything life has to offer, you know.” Pomni wrapped her arms around herself before continuing.

“My whole life was just taken from me, I’ll never see my family again, I won’t ever die because that’s impossible here! But at the same time I won’t ever get to live because I’m trapped here for eternity! OR AT LEAST UNTIL I COMPLETELY LOSE IT AND ABSTRACT, THEN I’LL BE THROWN INTO THE CELLAR TO BE FORGOTTEN ABOUT BY EVERYONE-.”

“Pomni!” Jax yelled, stopping Pomni’s ranting. “Ok short stuff, I want you to take a deep breath.”

Pomni didn’t realize until then how audibly she had been hyperventilating so she did as told and inhaled as much air into her as she could then holding it.

“Now let it out. Slowly.” Jax instructed and Pomni did so, they repeated the process five more times before Pomni felt remarkably better and Jax saw the change too as the next thing he asked was. “Feel better?”

Though Pomni still felt heavy with worry she hummed with a nod giving Jax the answer he wanted.

“Good. Now I know it’s easier said than done here but try to relax. You don’t have to worry about a problem that doesn’t exist yet.” Jax hopped over the back of the couch and laid back beside Pomni sighed as he sunk back into the cushions.

Pomni fiddled with her gloves and her body refused to comply with the idea of relaxing as her muscles were still tensed and brain kept trying to throw her back into her anxious spiral despite her best efforts to think about something else.

“You’re not relaxing.” Jax cracked open one eye to look at Pomni who was visibly not relaxed with her tensed posture, leg bouncing under her, and her eyes fixated on her gloves.

“Ugh! I can’t help it, how can I possibly relax in this f#%king place!” Pomni exclaimed to the empty circus tent.

Jax had to admit she had a point, relaxation was a skill one had to master after coming into the circus and there was really no such thing as being completely relaxed, but if anyone needed to learn how to it was the chronically anxious and traumatized jester girl.

“Do you need some help?” Jax asked only to get a suspicious side eye from the jester in return.

“What are you gonna do?” Pomni asked back clearly, not sure of any idea Jax had.

“Oh chill Jingle bells. I’m not gonna try anything, I just wanna help out a friend. It's so hard to believe.”

“Yes.” Pomni said flatly.

“Fair enough, but this time I swear I just wanna help.” Jax smiled at her. This had a bad idea written all over it but Pomni decided that if Jax really was just gonna prank her or something then at least it'd take her mind off everything.”

“Fine, but don’t even think about trying anything.” She warned the rabbit.

“Alrighty then.” Jax stood up from the couch and went back behind it, leaving Pomni’s line of sight. She felt a little uneasy about this but tried to keep her mind calm.

Pomni then felt the pressure of two hands on her shoulders, her initial reaction was to flinch at the contact then immediately feel her skin prickle under her jester outfit.

She was close to asking Jax to stop whatever he was doing but then he started rubbing his fingers into her muscles and immediately Pomni eased up. While physical contact was something she had a love hate relationship with she was enjoying the pressure and warmth of Jax’s hands on her shoulders rubbing slow gentle circles with each of his fingers.

She could feel Jax smirk behind her as he continued rubbing her shoulders but she didn’t find it in herself to care, right then she tried to focus on the good things because that’s what had worked for her so far, holding onto the good things she remembered and from in the circus.

Reassurance from Ragatha, games of chess with Kinger, the pretty stars at night in the sky, no longer having to deal with–

A sudden shock moved through her nervous system as she felt a squeak involuntarily come from her mouth.

Her hand flew to cover her mouth as her tension suddenly returned with a bite. She realized that Jax’s hands were no longer on her shoulders but near her mid back around her ribs, he had probably just brushed against them but it was enough to create a ticklish sensation.

“Pom pom?” Jax hummed. He knew it, the jig was up.

“Yes?” Pomni answered back in the most hesitant way known to this digital world.

“Did I just hear you squeal like a little chubby piglet?” Jax’s grin was a mile wide, he knew what he heard, but he’d never give up the chance to fluster someone.

“Umm…” Pomni stuttered but lying would do her no good in this situation. “Yeah…”

“Don't tell me you’re ticklish~.” Jax was now wiggling his fingers at Pomni only succeeding to make her even more unnerved.

Pomni was stuck and no words were coming out of her mouth to try and defend herself against the claim.

“I’m not hearing a ‘No’.” Jax’s hand went back into Pomni’s ribs though she did see how he left the window open for her to push him away if she didn’t want it.

But once the first notes of Laughter rang through Pomni’s body she let her body go limp. She hadn’t thought about it but it had been so long since she had truly laughed. She recalled how laughing supposedly released hormones that make you happier.

She wasn’t exactly too sure how biology applied to the digital circus as biology and technology were two very far apart subjects but she certainly felt a little lighter than before.

“Aww! Look at the cure face you’re making.” Jax cooed at her. She was trying to squirm away out of instinct but Jax took the chance to jump over the back of the couch and over her to keep up the tickles.

Pomni’s face was now significantly red even though she hadn’t been holding her breath. The tickling sensation over her body was at the same time too much and too little in some paradoxical way.

“Jahahahahahahaxx, you M@H@H@Th$$RF###%%%R!” Pomni’s laughter even though the profanity censor was still present which only encouraged Jax to rile her up.

“Pom pom, how come you’ve never told anyone you’re ticklish?” Jax’s eyes were completely trained on her and her reactions to each spot, boy he loved getting reactions out of the others.

“Quhuhuhuhit teheheheheheheheheasing meHHEHEHEHE.” Midway through her sentence Jax‘s hand got in her armpit which caused her laughter to intensify greatly and she found herself getting a little overwhelmed by the stimuli.

“But you’re so much fun to tease.” Jax made a pouty face at her but then his signature grin reappeared as he focused one hand to tickling her ribs while the other tickled her armpit.

It was quite odd how not much effort behind the tickles was needed on his part. Seemed Pomni was quite sensitive to light stuff.

If her memory didn’t lie her pits were always a bad spot for her and she didn’t know how much longer she could take it there. Then she got a devious idea.

Pomni realized nothing was stopping her from fighting back. In fact Jax hadn’t even pinned her arms and hands down anywhere, he had just let them try and deter his hands from their tickle assault. Huge oversight on his part, as he would soon learn.

Through her laughter Pomni found it in her to reach out fast as a bullet and latch onto Jax’s waist and gave it multiple squeezes.

Jax let out a squeal of his own as his body went limp like a noodle overtop of Pomni. She turned the tables on him as she pushed him back into the couch and scratched much more ruthlessly at the front of his overalls

She took the chance and went for his stomach which earned her a stream of non stop chuckles.

“F$$$$%%%%K Pohahahahahahm Poahahahahaham! Nohohohohohohoho!” Jax’s attack on Pomni had been put on halt as his hands now tried to grab hers. His smile now miles wider.

“Aww~ Is the big tough bunny too sensitive to take what he gives?” Pomni put on her baby talk which only succeeded in making Jax’s laugh even more squeaky. He sounded like he was an actual rabbit who was getting loved on. It was just as adorable as it was hilarious.

She was frankly amazed that he hadn’t thrown her off him yet since he was like twice her height and she weighed about as much as a baby kitten according to Caine

Feeling eager to experiment with her new found power over Jax, Pomni went up to his ears and stuck one finger into one of them and began to swirl it around. Jax lost it.

His laugh grew ever more sporadic and uncontrolled and he began kicking his feet too. Though it seemed his ears provoked the same reaction within him as Pomni because he went on to go right back into Pomni’s ribs while Pomni Hands clung onto his ears continuing her retaliation.

They continued going back and forth for a while after that with each of them taking turns pushing the other one back into the couch and gaining the upper hand from them. They couldn’t even tease each other through their shared laughter.

At one point they had both even fallen off the couch and were both just on a floor still laughing like they were high on helium. After a couple minutes both of them were now just laying on the floor together giggling and smiling.

After everything went quiet for a few seconds when Jax spoke up. “So, that make you feel any better?”

Pomni sighed “Yeah, it- it did. Thank you Jax.”

“Yeah, yeah don’t get all mushy on me Jester. Just do me a favor and don’t tell the others about this, I don’t need them thinking I’ve grown soft.” Jax shook his head.

“Aww~ Does that mean you’re going soft for me?” Pomni broke out her baby talk voice again seeing how much it embarrassed Jax before.

“Hah!” Jax huffed out a fake laugh as he flicked one of the bells in Pomni’s hat. “In your dreams Jingle bells.”

Oddly enough Pomni laughed too.

Both of them said their goodnights and went back to their respective rooms both oblivious to the four sets of eyes that were secretly watching them from around the corner.

Ragatha felt like her heart was about to burst at the two’s cuteness, Gangle was scribbling down notes for her next tickle fanfic for her OCs, Zooble was smirking on the inside they planned to use Jax’s weakness against him the next time he tried to steal their limbs. Meanwhile Kinger was facing away from the group staring off into the hallway wondering what they were all looking at.